On Your Way Home
by TheVelvetDusk
Summary: After enduring a separation of 4,000 miles, time was officially irrelevant. They were two prodigals - always willing to welcome each other home once more. {extended scenes from Season 5, a series of oneshots}
1. 5x02, Countless Hours

**A/N: I'm pretty sure that writing Spoby is just like contracting one of those viruses where you have it once, and then it will always be in your system for all of time. Seriously, I had no intention of writing this and I don't know what came over me. So please be kind, because it felt a little messy but I did my best ;)**

**The title comes from a line in _Slowly_ by Barcelona which you may recognize from the cuteness that was 5x02. I own nothing from the show or the song. Also, depending on my level of inspiration, I might turn this fic into a multi-chap...but only as a series of unconnected one shots that revolve around other S5 episodes. So yeah, we'll see!**

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_Can you pick me up on your way home?  
__We'll talk about love, it's just about  
__If everything fell apart, trust me, we will fight that slowly. _

* * *

_"_**_And we're never coming back_**_."_

It should have sent an instant spurt of elation through him. It was everything he'd ever wanted, the subject of his every daydream—packing up, driving away, leaving once and for all. Hell, he'd wanted that before the letter 'A' had even the slightest of implications in his life. Rosewood was nothing to him, just a black holding cell, a pit of vipers, a mass of unremitting quicksand. Only one person had the power to hold him in this desolate wasteland of a town and he didn't resent her for it, not for second. Leaving her behind, even if only for a matter of months until graduation, meant abandoning her in a tumultuous volcano of hazard and tragedy. No, being here—with her—was better than any other alternative.

But now she'd put words to the melody of his single greatest wish. Just him and her, free to live a new life that would not include psycho stalkers or vengeful serial killers. He didn't care if it was London, Beijing, the South Pole, or a freaking NASA space station. Spencer Hastings was the only necessary component to guarantee his happiness.

His bliss was short lived, though. Those sweet, dim, raspy words had been stained with tattered emptiness, a congested gravelly weariness that had put him on an immediate alert. At the time, he couldn't get a read on her, couldn't break through the veiled sadness that contorted every inch of her. It terrified him, absolutely paralyzed him to the core. On instinct, he just wanted to love her as fully and unselfishly as possible. It was the only thing he could see in her anyway; she was craving him as much as he was craving her.

Hunger had radiated in her huge almond eyes, a palpable need charging like a current from the tips of her searching fingers directly into his bloodstream. He'd known how much he'd missed her, had felt it from a different time zone, had ached for her from more than 30,000 feet above the ground. He'd flown in at such an unreasonable hour, and yet it had still taken an immense amount of restraint to not drive straight to her house. As much as he needed to see her, to know that she was okay and that _they_ were okay, he somehow doubted that Mr. and Mrs. Hastings would appreciate a visit at two in the morning.

Here in the light of day, all of his separation anxiety was obviously for nothing. They'd barely scratched the surface of need-to-know conversation, but he couldn't bring himself to pry any further. She was brimming with a myriad of foreboding emotions, the blend of confusion and self-loathing and exhaustion all clouding her beautiful features. She was so soft, carrying a fragrance akin to sunshine and speaking to him in a low, buttery tone that held an ocean's worth of listlessness and longing. It was bizarre to see her like this, oddly mellow and yet still bursting with relief every time her eyes attached themselves to his. And her hands…they were unbelievably distracting. She had caressed a line over his calloused knuckles, massaged his shoulders, clutched his shirt, traced his face. From the moment their mouths connected, there had been no question as to whether or not she'd felt his absence with an equaled fervor.

And then quite suddenly, as the cliché goes, one thing literally just led to another. She had been murmuring a line about Alison …some snippet of a discussion that had transpired at the bus terminal…but her index finger was outlining his lower lip, her entrancing gaze following the same path by extension. Words fell away with discreet desertion. Everything between them went white and hot, like how the air swells up in a late August afternoon with all the edges going fuzzy and lethargic.

He half-led, half-carried her out of the living room and up the stairs. They fumbled and stuttered over the last four steps, both of them stubbornly refusing to break the meeting of their mouths. Suddenly a handful of days apart had stretched into years. He almost couldn't remember what it felt like to be with her, to be all wrapped up in her. The thought of it was creating an unexplainable whirlpool in his mind, erasing any concept of what came before this moment or what would come after. It was only her taste on his tongue and her name seared into his conscious thoughts.

His shirt was off automatically. He launched her backwards across the mattress, spurring a spontaneous giddiness in her smile that made his pulse sputter. Then she was underneath him, so slight and so delicate. Her legs imprisoned him, her heels scraping over his back pockets and sliding along the length of his thighs. His lips moved faster, consuming every inch of her graceful collarbone, her sweet-smelling shoulder, her elegant neck. He felt like a man who had been deprived of oxygen or water, desperate and insatiable.

"Toby, the next time you go to London…"

The crooning refrain of her voice had caught him off guard, practically imperceptible over the rush of his beating heart. "Yeah?"

"You're taking me with you…"

_**Gladly**_. A vacation with Spencer would be—

"…and we're never coming back."

His overjoyed expression died before it could even truly live.

It wasn't like he was opposed to her request. It hadn't been the words she'd said, but the way they'd been framed in such a deep casket of melancholy. She didn't sound anything like a seventeen-year-old senior with the whole world ahead of her. She was damaged, decayed and rotting away, lost in a place that was all too familiar.

Even hours later, much after the moment had passed, Toby was still haunted by the sound of it.

He was too young, too helpless himself, to have any real solution for her. So with a tender nudge from his nose to hers, he tried to tell her that he'd follow her anywhere. With a fevered kiss from his lips to hers, he did his best to express the depths of his love, his unending devotion. Maybe that could be enough for right now.

They kissed and kissed and kissed. Her nails charted a course over his shoulders and across his back, then trailed the span of his bicep, leaving a standing ovation of goose bumps in their wake. He shivered with approval, the motion creating a sensuous friction between her pelvis and his.

And then kissing was no longer enough.

But later, with discarded clothes littering the floor and their bodies cozily entwined, the room was still bogged down with the burden of something unsaid. The intimacy was as alive as ever, their skin melting together, her touch lingering over his hairline and down across the slope of his jaw. They were stealing kisses, exchanging long looks, basking in the affectionate company of one another. It was almost enough to convince him that she really was alright.

Until her phone decided to intrude on the otherwise idyllic seclusion.

He thought that maybe she could finally open up to him this time, tell him what was dragging her down; but with every lifeless "no," that she uttered, his heart sank lower in his chest. This girl, this despondent beauty with wounded doe eyes and a shattered voice box, was miles apart from the Spencer Hastings that he'd initially fallen in love with. Between the Adderall relapse and –A's constant provoking, a traumatic night in New York, the added stress of Alison's reappearance, and now new information about Melissa's deception…well, he couldn't blame her. And while he'd never had the courage—or perhaps the recklessness—to speak it aloud, part of him was certain that her short stint in Radley had inflicted a subtle fracture to her soul that simply could not be healed. It was his biggest fear, to think that his misguided actions had left her far more fragile than she'd ever been before. What if she eventually ran out of steam altogether, just caved under the weight of it all and raised a permanent white flag of surrender?

Toby tucked himself more tightly against her and inhaled the cherished scent of her shampoo. If he could form a protective shell around her, both physically and metaphorically, he would do it. If she needed him to lie there all night and say absolutely nothing, he'd be perfectly content. After enduring a separation of 4,000 miles between him and the woman he loved, time was officially irrelevant. He could have stayed in that bed forever.

Unfortunately, the disrupting force of her cell phone was unrelenting. Even after she'd silenced it, the screen continued to light up with a stream of incoming calls and text messages. Her thin frame stiffened with each additional invasion. Doors slammed from somewhere down the street and a glow of dull orange fell across the shadows of her room, needlessly reminding them of their proximity to the ill-fated DiLaurentis household.

He'd mapped out the column of her spine, first with his finger tips, then again with his mouth. He kissed her shoulder blades and toyed with the ends of her chestnut hair. It did nothing to ease the mounting tension that gripped her body.

"Can I get you anything," he'd muttered into her skin, "like maybe some coffee? Or we could go out and grab dinner?"

Spencer just shrugged, her face still turned away from him.

"I'll go look around the kitchen, okay? It's getting kind of late and we have to eat something eventually."

Her tiny hum of agreement settled his decision. If he could just get some food in her…

But when he'd returned a few minutes later with a takeout menu in hand, she was sitting atop a pristinely made bedspread, completely dressed and tapping through her droning list of unanswered text messages.

"Hey, I'm sorry, but something came up with the my friends."

She wouldn't look at him. Her tone was flat and her lips were thinly compressed. Toby watched in frustration as her eyelashes twitched together rapidly, letting him on the little secret that tears were just a breath away. She knew what she was doing to him and she already hated herself for it.

"Spencer…" His teeth clenched together as he shook his head. How could she—

"I know, I know," the arcing pitch of her apology was abnormally high. "I suck, this whole thing sucks."

"Then just stay." It came out weakly, like he'd already been defeated.

Her unflinching gaze was trained on the windowpane. _Of course_. Alison's house was in her direct line of vision, taunting both of them with just its mere existence. "I want to. You have no idea how much I want to."

"What's so important then? And if you're going to lie, then don't even bother responding. I'd prefer silence to _that_."

He had her attention then. Her head whipped sideways to give him a full view of her glistening irises. "Em and Hanna…they tried to call earlier because…because Jason has been acting suspicious and they ended up tailing him all the way to Philly. Sounds like nothing really came of it, but now they need me to divert Mr. DiLaurentis long enough to…to…sneak Ali over here and…"

"I get the point," he mumbled, searching reluctantly for his shirt.

She sniffled inadequately. "That **is **the truth, Toby."

"I believe you." He tugged at one shoe, stopping to shove his hair backward before going to work on the other. "That doesn't mean I like it."

"Look, I just have to do this. I've been ignoring them since you got here, and I feel awful. I feel awful for leaving you, awful for letting them do this stuff on their own, and—"

"You know, your family ought to be Catholic for the amount of guilt you're always toting around." Toby had smoothed the sullenness out of his voice, exchanging it for a lighter flippancy. There was no sense in making this worse on her when she was clearly upset enough for the both of them. He ambled over to the bed and pulled her upward, his hands cupping her elbows while he scattered a few kisses over her forehead. "Be safe, okay? If for no other reason, please do it for my sake."

She nodded meekly before pressing her face into the ridge of his shoulder. "I'll call you later, I promise."

They parted downstairs with a crushing hug, the farewell feeling much too premature for them both. "Seriously, Spence, don't do anything stupid. I have presents from London back at the loft and it would really be a shame if I had to pass them to you through the bars of a jail cell."

A twinkling smirk donned her features as she stepped away from him. "Presents, huh? That _would_ be a shame…"

He was somehow able to return her expression despite the pit of uncertainty that occupied his stomach. "I was hoping that might be a motivating factor for you."

"I'll be fine, Tobes, honestly. You have to be beat with jet lag anyway…aren't you four or five hours ahead? Go home and sleep it off, baby."

She had a point. His eyes were burning with fatigue and he felt like midnight had already come and gone.

But as it turned out, his brain had just spun in circles from the second he'd pulled out of her drive. The air in his loft had an odd staleness to it, something he'd figured would be gone by now. A bulb in the kitchen had burnt out, his refrigerator was empty, and a tuneless singer was screeching out a bland chorus from beneath his floor boards. To top it off, he'd stubbed a toe on the corner of his heaping suitcase before collapsing dismally into the jumble of his sheets. He just felt _off_.

Maybe because it wasn't really home if Spencer wasn't in it.

Toby sat up and scrubbed his eyes, unsuccessfully attempting to squash the stream of restless thoughts that was crammed between his ears. She could be walking straight into a trap. What if Jason _was_ dangerous? Or what about Alison for that matter? It's not like her track record was any good. For all they knew, the whole DiLaurentis family could be active participants in a deranged voodoo cult. Stranger things have happened, right?

The surly rumble of his stomach interrupted the dark twist of sleepless abstraction. So without thinking twice, he got up and swiped his keys off the nightstand. He couldn't make her decisions for her, but that didn't mean he was forced to sit idly and wait for the worst.

In the fifteen minutes it took for the Grille to prepare his order, Toby talked himself in and out of his plan at least a hundred times. She'd probably be livid. It was his first day back and he was already crossing the elusive line of trust by barging his way back into her house.

The first one didn't really register. The noise inside of his head was somehow louder than the competing wail of a boisterous siren.

The second one came quickly after. Not a cop this time, but an ambulance.

And then two more squad cars shrieked down Main Street.

By the time Toby had paid and was out the door, every fine hair on the back of his neck was prickled in sickening apprehension. He broke several traffic laws on the way to her house, but he wasn't too worried about it since all of Rosewood PD seemed to be out in front of him. They were all pooling in the same general direction, and that direction just happened to be his destination as well. His gut was wringing with terror as he swung into her neighborhood. _Please, God, don't let it be…_

Eerie flickers of red and blue kindled across the ethereal landscape, a commotion of voices and activity spiraling from every available speck of the vindictive scenery. It all played out before him like the conclusion of an antiquated horror flick. "No, Spence, _no_…"

He threw the truck into park in the middle of her street. A few officers called out to him, but his feet were striking the ground with an unheeded savagery. Screw them, screw the whole effing town, he was getting to her whether they liked it or not.

The front door was his only option. Everything else was already blockaded with garish yellow tape. It was grossly peculiar, standing on the doorstep that he'd never really used in more than a year of dating her. He might as well be at someone else's house for how foreign this stoop was.

Even weirder?

The door wasn't locked.

"Spencer! Spencer?"

What the hell was going on? There were swarms of police officers forming a human web between her house and Alison's, and her door _was not even locked._

"Spencer?!"

He was mid-step, racing past the living room and toward the staircase when he saw her. In the misty grid of the yard, standing in profile, shaking uncontrollably next to her mother—one look at her and the wind was knocked right out of him.

"Spencer."

It had only been a whisper that time, but in an inexplicable chain reaction, she glanced up and spotted him through the sprawling expanse of floor-to-ceiling glass doors. He could read his own name on her trembling mouth as she began to stagger toward him. _Toby._

She flung herself into his arms faster than he could even blink, chewing up the distance between them at an inhuman pace. They were wobbling back and forth, barely steady enough to remain on their feet, swaying together as one cohesive unit. He was vaguely worried about the possibility of breaking her in two for how zealously he was holding her, and yet he couldn't bring himself to loosen his grasp even marginally.

She didn't seem to mind.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad you're here, Toby…it was...she's…"

"Who, sweetheart? Who is it? Why are they all here?"

Spencer lifted her head from the folds of his coat, gleaming rivers trickling from her wide eyes. "M-Mrs. DiLaurentis is d-dead. She…she was buried j-just like…"

Toby cut her off, chastely kissing her cheek before steering her to the sofa. "Shhh, you don't have to say any more, Spence. I get it, it's just…this is unreal."

She nodded vacantly. "I can't keep doing this. I can't."

"C'mere," he hummed softly, cuddling her limp form against his chest. "I know it isn't much, and I wish I had something—_anything—_better to say, but…I'm here, Spencer. I'm here and you aren't alone in this."

Her head tunneled further into his shirtfront, moisture seeping right through to the skin below. As muffled as it was, he could still hear the echo of her earnest reply—"Trust me, there's nothing better than hearing you say that."

They sat there for countless hours, Toby's memory of now-cold takeout and an illegal park job were completely neglected as he shielded her against the irreconcilable buzz of the outside world. As badly as he'd wanted to be near to her, these were not the circumstances he would have ever chosen. He rubbed her back and kissed her temple repeatedly, feeling utterly insufficient against the mountain of her anguish.

He didn't remember dozing off; a sudden pressure dipped onto his shoulder as someone spoke in a low tone from above his head. "Toby? I hated to wake you, but can you manage to get Spencer to her room? You'll both thank me for this in the morning."

"Hmmm?" His bleary gaze washed over the petite brunette who was snuggled compactly in his lap, sound asleep and as gorgeous as ever. He had no concept of how long they'd been like this or when Veronica had even come back inside. Last he could recall, she was still on the back porch, vigorously condemning the coroner for his lack of proper protocol. "Mm, sure, Mrs. Hastings. I'll be back down in a second."

He bundled Spencer more firmly to his chest and stood slowly, smiling fondly when she nuzzled her face into the hollow below his chin and let out a serene sigh, her eyelids staying placidly shut.

Veronica corrected her throat with a mild trace of discomposure. "And Toby…maybe I wasn't clear enough the first time. You don't have to come back down here. Not if you don't want to."

His jaw was practically on the floor. She was telling him he could stay? "Wow, uh…thank you."

She dismissed the sentiment with a stern shake of her head. "You're the one who deserves the appreciation here. She would have been up all night if you hadn't come over."

After a half-step toward the kitchen, she stopped herself abruptly and swiveled back to look at him once more. "How _did_ you get here so quickly? Unless Spencer contacted you and I somehow missed it..."

"No, I hadn't heard anything from her." He glanced down again, infinitely grateful for the steady sensation of her breath against his neck. "I was just dropping by on my way home."

It was the only a partial truth. He **had** been on his way home, just not in the most literal definition of the word.

Toby couldn't say for sure, but judging by the knowing glint in Mrs. Hastings' eyes, he was fairly confident that the deeper significance behind his words was not lost on her.

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**A/N 2: thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the pretty little review box below :)**

**and shameless plug, but I would be so grateful if you went over and read my other most recent one shot, _Winner Takes All_. I got less hits on that one for some reason, and I'm bummed because it was one of my all-time favorites to write! (unless it just sucked and I lack self awareness haha)**

**But no pressure! thanks again!**


	2. 5x05, Little Sanctuary

_a/n: so I caved & wrote another. Haha. This is based off of 5x05, basically extended off of the adorable truck scene. I just love them :)_

_I don't own anything PLL related! Oh, and this is essentially not related to the previous chapter...I'll just do S5 oneshots as inspiration strikes. THANKS!_

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"Are you mad at me for waiting so long to tell you?"

The timid question launched a look of gracious endurance across his chiseled features. It wasn't at all what she had been expecting, and her heartbeat fluttered wildly at the sight of his warm smile.

"Spence," the nickname sounding unbelievably sweet and melodic on his upturned lips, "get over here."

He didn't have to ask twice. If this was what telling the truth felt like, she should have been confessing everything to him from day one. His arms beckoned her in, greeting the prodigal home once more. Unaccustomed peace flushed away the lingering bits of anxiety that still clung to her—the uncertainty of her family's ruptured future, the bitter aftershock of Alison's newest lie, the fractured sense of paranoia they'd all experienced since Shana's death in New York. It just dissolved into meaningless background noise as Toby folded her into his steadfast embrace.

"All I want you to know...is that you're never alone. Not even for a second."

He kissed her temple affectionately, reinforcing each solemn word he'd just murmured from behind her. Spencer yielded herself to the gentle lullaby of his body encasing hers, quietly absorbing the rock-solid support, the verbal seal of unhindered loyalty. How many nights had she spent assuming the lonesome load of self-reliance? How many times had she shut him out, resisting his patient wisdom, his impenetrable commitment to her and to their relationship?

Not anymore. He'd proven himself so many times already. The tornado that had been brewing over her head for the last two years was nothing compared to the shelter he could offer her. He was there, always right there, ready and willing. If only she would break down the damn walls and let him in.

Opening her eyes gradually, she caressed his forearm in gratitude before dipping her hand further to clasp the back of his much larger one. It was the lightest she had felt in days. Words seemed trapped somewhere within her, the inability to speak only crippling her for a moment. What came next was much more instinctive than any verbal articulation could have been anyway.

Spencer tilted her head backward, suddenly ravenous for the generous texture of his lips directly on hers. He met her kiss immediately as her fingers toyed adoringly with his. Their mouths meshed together in a brief flash of mutual passion, then instantly came back together for a second time. An irresistible surge of emotion demanded that she turn around to better face him, her vision hazing with desire as his tongue peeked between his pink lips in preparation for more.

Her body melded more purposefully into his, her fingers leaping over his shoulder and into his hair while he anchored a hand below her jaw.

She could practically hear the command of her heart—_more, more, more_. This was the boy who would spend his free time building makeup tables for her, the same guy who bought her flowers on more than one occasion and had walked her right to her door regardless of the disapproving parents that lurked within. He'd given her a _Scrabble_ _necklace_, of all things. He'd put up with the stakeouts, the boundless lies, an addiction that nearly tore them apart. He'd traded a piece of his own soul to go undercover, to buy her back from the pits of hell by fighting their demons from the inside out. This blue-eyed saint saw her for exactly who she was, and somehow found it within himself to shower her in unending acts of love despite it all.

Just two nights ago, he stood beside to her as she'd wrung herself out in the turmoil of Alison's return to Rosewood High. Who knows—without him, she might still be standing absently over that whistling tea kettle, frozen in the fear of what came next.

But instead, the stove had been turned off thanks to him. Just like the day he'd convinced her to stretch out alongside him and take a catnap in her red lounge chair. There was the night he'd cuddled with her atop a heap of pillows in the flickering firelight. The time he'd welcomed her back into his loft, accepting her treaty of apologies and cronuts. He received it all—no caffeine, low blood sugar, obsessive, irrational, secretive, and silent—but still he called her _his girl_. If action is character, Toby Cavanaugh was pure gold to his very core.

And at the moment, she couldn't get enough of him. She climbed into his lap in complete disregard for whoever might pass them by. As far as she was concerned, the truck's dim interior was a world of their own and nothing could touch them in this little sanctuary.

His hands eagerly steadied her as she straddled him, his long fingers probing higher and higher with each escalating kiss. The well-versed heat of his mouth was spurring her on, drawing her in, spinning her in a magical trance. It was like every hit she'd taken in the last 48 hours was somehow absorbed and obliterated when her body latched onto his. Her concentration just slipped away as his tongue skimmed over her lower lip. He smiled at her rickety gasp and dove further in, leveraging his hand below the base of her skull for a resounding kiss that zapped her spine with an intoxicated shudder.

She was beneath him a second later, not at all surprised—but still in total awe—by his expert ability to maneuver both of them in such a cramped space. His muscular frame dwarfed hers, covering every inch of her in the refuge of his enticingly familiar build.

"The real reason I bought this truck was for the bench seat," she mumbled unintelligibly as Toby nipped at her pulse point, "God, I _love_ this bench seat."

His lips quirked against her neck as his coarse palm danced over the flat expanse of her stomach. "I'm a pretty big fan of it myself. Why do you think this was the one I had picked out?"

She snickered softly in reply, her nails dividing a path through his rumpled hair. The expression was rapidly wiped clean, however, as his adamant touch pushed her blouse even higher. A new flush of craving overtook her as his hand fell heavily against the cup of her lacy bra. "_Toby _—"

He ate up her moans as his mouth covered hers yet again. There was something so achingly tender in the way he was moving against her tonight. It was different than the day he'd returned from London, filled with less of a neediness…rather rooted in the most intricate kind of care, almost as if he was trying to build her back up from scratch like the skilled craftsman that he was.

Spencer didn't so much as flinch when the quick beep of her phone's text alert went off. The entire universe had always seemed to conspire against them—alone time was a scarcity, a luxury they could never quite afford no matter how much they saved up for it. She held onto him with defiant determination. She didn't want to face anyone else. All she wanted was him, only him, and she would greedily shut everything else out for as long as she could. Toby went on kissing her, blissfully obliging her implicit appeal for ignorance.

They both froze in astonishment, though, when his phone chimed in a half-second later. It was a sound that neither were overly accustomed to, especially not at this time of night. Sure, Toby communicated with bosses and coworkers, but other than that…it was mostly just Spencer who caused his phone to buzz once the sun was down. His baffled sapphire gaze perused her face several times, almost like he was trying to verify that she was really there with him.

And it was apparently no fluke; before either of them had a chance to speak, the text tone dinged again.

Toby twisted upward and reached into his pocket with a furrowed brow. "Maybe they're calling me back in for tomorr—_oh_."

"**Oh**, what?" She scrambled to sit upright, clinging forlornly to his elbow for assistance. "Toby, what is it? Is Jenna trying to—"

"No, it's not her, Spencer." His eyes attached themselves to hers as his thumb smudged an invisible spot on her chin. "It's Emily. She wanted to make sure I knew what was going down in case I wasn't with you…"

The weighted quality of his words was spreading a panicky chill all through her. "What…what…?"

Her voice got all jammed up inside, but he didn't wait for her to work past her stammer. "The police are going to do a press conference on the local news…they have an ID on the body…the one that was supposed to be Alison."

Spencer felt every ugly bit of self-loathing come to the surface, the anxiety that ravaged her insides making itself known in the sheen of moisture that appeared in her eyes.

"Spence? She…she wants us to come over. That's what the second message said." He cleared an errant wave of hair from her brow before leaning in to kiss her forehead. "We should probably get over there now if we want to catch it."

She nodded blankly, her throat still too cluttered for any other response.

With only a few blocks between them and their destination, it was barely a full minute and half until Toby was shifting the truck back into park. Spencer hadn't dislodged a single word, her glassy stare aimed mindlessly beyond the windshield.

"Hey," he whispered sympathetically, his arm hooking over her shoulders and tugging her into his side. "Whatever we hear in there, you have to believe that it's going to be okay. Remember what I just told you? You aren't alone in this, and you never have to be alone in anything _ever_. Not when I'm here, Spencer."

Her nod was more convincing this time as she busied herself with the task of straightening his disheveled shirt. "I know. And I can't even begin to tell you how relieved I am that you're going in there with me."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, his eyes shining hypnotically in the milky lamplight. "I'd go anywhere for you."

It was hardly something he needed to say aloud. If she hadn't already known it, his impromptu trip across the Atlantic had been all the evidence she'd ever require.

His arm loosened from around her, plummeting into the depths of the truck's cabin to retrieve their jackets from behind the seat. Ever the gentleman, he insisted on easing the trench coat over her arms before donning his own jacket and prodding her out into the spellbound nightfall.

They were all the way to the door—his fist elevating with the intent to knock—when she stopped him with a tremulous hand between his shoulder blades. "Tobes?"

He turned back to her in nanosecond, his fingers welding to the curve of her waist. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

Spencer arched up on her tiptoes and smoothed his hair away from his face, then fused her mouth against his and kissed him with every smoldering ounce of sentiment that her soul had ever carried for him. He obviously hadn't been expecting it. His posture faltered temporarily, a restrained groan rising out of him as he lurched forward and tightened his hold on her. The pressure of his lips was intuitive, though, digging into the kiss with as much as gusto as she'd unleashed. They only lasted for a few more seconds, both sensing the inevitability of whatever awaited them on the other side of that door.

"Sorry," she breathed unevenly against his collar, "I just couldn't…I love you, Toby. I wanted you to know that before we went in."

He let his head droop against hers for a drawn-out moment. "We're in this together, Spence. Promise me that you won't forget that."

"I promise." She coiled her arm through his, savoring the unflappable stability that he naturally radiated. With Toby at her side, she might just survive this new piece of information that was sure to leave her devastated.

* * *

_a/n: guys. I have a feeling there will at least be a third installment to this because the beautiful Tobias darted toward his burning home which looks like it will explode AGAIN. And since the episode seemed like a bit of cliffhanger that would continue into 5x06, I thought I'd hold off on dealing with such a horrific event until we get a better look at what will happen with that. So STAY TUNED._

_Thank you all for being such loyal reader/reviewers. My heart swells._


	3. 5x06, C'est Dommage

_How am I supposed to accept that Toby Cavanaugh was not seen ONE SINGLE TIME in 5x06..? Hahahah - NO. Ok. I know that Keegan had other projects that seemed to take place around the same time as this, so I'm trying not to be hateful. It's just so bothersome. But the upside is this...I was so bothered that I started writing this immediately after the episode aired. I did use their timeline as best as I could but it might be a little off. I figured you'll forgive me for that.  
_

_I own nothing from the PLL World. Thank you for the amazing amount of favorites/follows/reviews on the previous chapters! I'm ridiculously grateful :)))_

* * *

He honestly couldn't remember if he was coming or going at this point. Scenes of stinging fog and blazing red heat mingled together with a sea of bleached white floors, warping his sleep-deprived brain with a funhouse replica of the last 24 hours. Everyone was fine, relatively. Only his father had suffered any real physical injury and it was a minor one in the scheme of things. Jenna, however, had been quieter than he'd ever heard her...something his step-mother was quick to attribute to the combined trauma of multiple losses, all occurring within a appallingly short time frame. Toby had stifled his snort of disbelief like the dutiful quasi-family member that he was. His step-sister might be dealing with a lot, but how much of that did she—and her demented 'friend' or whatever Shana qualified as—bring upon themselves? No one in their right mind could ever label Jenna as an unknowing innocent in the grand tragedies that revolved around Rosewood like a vortex of ill fortune.

Toby scrubbed at his eyes ferociously, trying to whittle away the grime of this living nightmare. He'd left the hospital hours ago. Right? Time was sort of out the window for him. He couldn't keep up with it, couldn't even make sense of the seemingly random numbers that flashed across his vision every time he attempted to assign an hour, a minute, a second to this godforsaken drudgery of a day.

His step-mother's nasal drone permeated his subconscious without reprieve. _She's lost more than we can comprehend. All we can do is be supportive._

_**Loss.**_

Who the hell did she think she was talking to when she said that? Like he didn't know a damn thing about loss, like he'd **never** known how the hell a shred—just a single shred—of support would have gone a long freaking way when he'd been the one suffering a loss. She'd blabbed on, whirling herself into a catatonic state of self-worship. Jenna was _hers_ after all. He could spend the rest of his life trying to hate her for it, but it wasn't really her fault. Toby had never been hers to claim; he was just an add on, a stipulation, the black sheep that came with the marriage papers.

Damn them all though. Damn Jenna for coming back into town, for sucking all of them into her perpetual web of catastrophe. She was so good at playing the victim, so quick to forget the extensive list of indiscretions where _she_ had been the one creating the casualties.

Damn his father for breaking his leg over God knows what in that stupid, stupid house. It was just brick and mortar. His son...his own son had been thrown to the wolves on how many occasions, but the house...the house was somehow important enough to snap a limb in half, for an act of thoughtless bravado. Probably chasing after Jenna's prized snow globe collection or something equally absurd.

_Just brick and mortar..._

Who was he trying to fool? It was way, **way** more than that. It was his childhood in there—the good parts, birthday cakes and piano lessons. Science projects, rounds and rounds of Monopoly, a litany of storybook adventures. His mother...what memories he had of her, they were wrapped up in this crumbling cavern of ashes. At least he'd had the sense to take what he could when he had the chance. For the fifteen-thousandth time since that life-altering explosion, Toby sent up a distant prayer of gratitude for the fact that he had stored several boxes of his mom's mementos back at his loft. No one had been bothering with them before. They'd just been accumulating dust in the attic on Serenity Lane, so taking ownership had been a natural decision. He couldn't believe the good providence in it now. He'd saved them, saved what he had of _her_, without even realizing the importance of what he'd done.

A disjointed noise caught his attention, the cutting of an engine and the clap of a car door shutting against the winter breeze. He straightened marginally and dragged a sleeve across his eyes, not daring to let his step-mother in on his private grief. She'd arrived earlier than he'd expected, but it was all the same. He didn't really need to dwell on the remnants of this place he'd once called home. It hadn't been held much significance for him in a long, long time. Not since...

"**Spencer**_?"_

It was like she'd materialized right out of his brain. She shifted from one foot to the other, still hovering at the edge of the sidewalk like she wasn't sure how to proceed from there.

"What—" he cleared the gravel from his throat before pushing himself up off of the decaying porch, "What are you doing here?"

A phantom smile shook the cobwebs from her impassive façade. "I know we talked last night...and earlier this morning..."

She was closer now, her citrusy perfume paving the way as she approached him.

"But, Toby..."

"Yeah?" he whispered, his hands already coasting over her arms, the feel of her tailored jacket beneath his palms bringing a fresh light to a very gray morning.

Her head pivoted slowly from side to side, her deep cinnamon irises sliding shut. "The phone just doesn't do you justice."

His lips twitched with the first inkling of a smile, something that was almost foreign to him at the moment. It felt a hell of a lot nicer than the etched grimaced he had been sporting since he'd last seen her. "I could not have said that any better."

He wanted to be ashamed of how his voice has cracked over those inadequate words, the hoarse strain of it ringing all too loud in his own ears. But he couldn't. Not with her. If anyone had to hear him in this feeble state, Spencer was his first choice...his only choice.

She looked up at him with a puckering sadness lining her forehead. He anticipated a cross-examination, a sequence of 'how are you holding up?' and 'is there anything I can do?' Concern was emanating from every available outlet—the scrunch of her eyebrows, the empathetic doe eyes, her downturned mouth. And those worrisome questions were probably still on their way. It just wasn't where she began.

Instead, her reedy arms wrapped around his waist with a surprising tenacity, the sheer force of her embrace likely imprinting his torso indefinitely. She planted her head in the center of his chest after pressing a virtuous kiss to his whiskery jawline. There were no words, just her carefully-measured intakes of breath and the swish of her hands rubbing back and forth across his stiff back muscles.

Toby unraveled right then and there. Saline tears streamed over his cheeks and speckled into her hair. His arms cinched over her shoulders, grasping at the one life preserver who'd been keeping him above sea level for more than a year now. His face was buried in the fragrant chestnut locks that he knew and loved so well. The smell of her was always devastatingly sweet, but this was different. He'd been ceaselessly submerged in a chasm of acrid smoke and clinical antiseptic—she was heaven on earth by comparison.

He didn't want to say anything, his exhausted set of bones truly despising the thought of interrupting the pacifying influence of her touch...but her wellbeing was still his utmost priority, even with the ruins of his old life tainting every corner of the blackened yard. "Shouldn't...shouldn't you be at school by now?"

She followed his lead, not bothering to extricate herself in the slightest. She answered his inquiry without budging an inch, keeping her face hidden away in his corduroy coat. "Yeah, I should be...but I was already running behind anyway. It's not a big deal."

It might have just been the manner in which her words were subdued against him...or was there a disguised despair behind her hushed intonation?

He didn't let go completely. He couldn't have even if he wanted to. It was the bare minimum, only generating enough space to crane his head backward and scan her gaze for any signs of trouble. "_You_ were running late? Has something happen since our last call?"

"Nothing important, okay?" She realigned herself, clamoring up to kiss his cheek and comb her fingers through his overgrown hair. "It can wait, trust me."

Spencer kissed his cheek again, then seized his lips in hers for several enthralling seconds. He clutched at her blindly, wanting nothing more than to sweep her off of her feet and drag her far from the wreckage that was his life—both of their lives, really. It wasn't like her existence had been filled with rays of sunshine either. She'd been so deeply entrenched in her own misery before his former street had been blasted to smithereens. And here she was, piecing him back together when she herself was not whole.

He was the one to break the kiss, his face diving into the narrow crook of her shoulder, exhaling madly against her neck. "It's so screwed up, Spencer. Will this ever end for either of us?"

It wasn't fair and he knew it. She was grappling with that same question, had been smashing herself up against that wall of doubt and defeat for every second of every day since Alison had first instigated this pandemonium. Spencer didn't have any more of a solution than he did. He chalked it up as purely rhetorical, a colossal mystery that neither could begin to tackle in this apocalyptic warzone.

And yet, as per usual, she shocked him with her innate sense of perception—she was just so in tune with his most basic needs. "I want to say yes. I want to say that it ends someday, someday sooner than we could even possibly dream. Whenever that day does come, you'll still have me. What you said last night, Toby…that I'd never be alone?"

He nodded against her, his hand squeezing her neck gently to reiterate the permanence of that declaration.

"Well you know the same goes for you too, right? I'm yours, through thick and thin. You aren't alone. You won't ever have to go through any of this by yourself, because I'm _never_ letting you get away from me. Understand?"

Toby worked to assemble the tiny bit of strength that he still possessed and stood at his full height, soaking up every morsel of Spencer's limitless loyalty—it glimmered unswervingly from her amber eyes, lit her porcelain skin with an otherworldly beauty.

"I understand." He kissed the bridge of her nose, then bent lower to locate her pliant mouth.

The crunch of tires pinged with the unpleasant announcement of another party arriving at the disorderly curb.

"That would be the step-mom," he murmured resignedly from against her lips.

"I need to get going anyway." She sounded about as thrilled at the idea of separation as he did. "Swear to me that you'll call later, or I'll hunt you down like a bloodhound until I have outright confirmation that you're still living and breathing."

He chuckled dryly, easily envisioning that exact scenario coming to fruition. "I'll call, Spence. I swear, no bloodhounds required."

"Good." Her hand drifted upward, tucking his hair back into place with a nurturing gesture that was clearly becoming a new habit of hers. "Try to get some sleep in the meantime, alright?"

She was barely two steps away when she rotated toward him again, her entire face fraught with haggard emotion. "And Toby Cavanaugh, if you **ever** pull a stunt like that again...I...I won't be able to scrape myself up off of the ground, okay? You can't do that to me, not when you're—you're..."

His body reacted automatically, plunging forward to hug her so tightly that her toes left the concrete path. "I know, baby. I'm sorry. Never again, I promise you."

Spencer's slender frame went lax in his encompassing grip, the miniscule sob that reverberated into his shoulder not escaping his notice.

They kissed a handful of times after that, officially too enraptured with each other to even acknowledge the audience that sat just a few yards away. It wasn't until Spencer was actually gone that it dawned on him—the approval of his family was absolutely meaningless when it came to his relationship with her. He didn't feel that way out of jaded rebellion or unresolved teenage angst. No, it wasn't anything like that. She just...she just mattered in ways that they couldn't ever challenge. Their abandonment had the power to hurt him, but it was astoundingly inconsequential with her in the equation.

The singed floorboards groaned beneath his weight as he mounted the porch steps once more. He knew it was only in his own head, but the floating thread of elusive past conversation was so undeniably distinct that Toby was sure the whole neighborhood could hear it—

"_C'est dommage_…"

"…_C'est la guerre_."

The yard was still uprooted in scorched depravity. Debris littered everything. Each individual blade of grass was blotted with the filth of violent upheaval. But not his heart. It was there, miraculously untarnished and intact, unconditionally hers from the very start.


	4. 5x08, Otherworldly Magic

_A/N:: Hi friends! Sorry for the delay, but just to be clear, this is an additional scene from 5x08 (Scream for Me). I was out of town last week so I got a little behind. Hope you will enjoy it anyway :)_

_This is after Toby comes over toward the end of the episode, but before Spencer's final scene with Ali and Emily. I don't own an ounce of PLL. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Her arm brushed gently with his, the tangle of their laced fingers helping to ease the erratic thumping of her tattered heart. The crackle of dead winter leaves swirled noisily around them. She did her best to suppress the chill that seeped through her jacket, hoping against hope that he wouldn't notice how the crisp night air affected her. There was no sense in turning back now.

He'd insisted. As ridiculous as it was, Toby had emphatically insisted that he walk her right up to the DiLaurentis doorstep, taking his role far too seriously with all the vigilance of a high-profile Secret Service agent. For once her life, she really hadn't put much fight into her counterargument. Yes, it was ridiculous. It should have been insulting, the notion of being _walked_ like a puppy on a leash, or a little girl on her way to the bus stop for the first day of kindergarten. And yet…

A deep turbulence had permeated every last inch of her, rattling her brain and sending a tremor the whole way down to her toes. Her eye hurt, sure. It was still swelling, throbbing without reprieve. But it was so much more than that. Spencer was at her breaking point..._again_.

So if her towering boyfriend of over six feet—plus a whole lot of muscle—wanted to escort her across the shadowed yard, she wasn't really protesting. As much as she hated to admit it to even herself, she was feeling more than a bit vulnerable after her hoof-to-the-head experience. The stability of his sturdy body next to hers was especially welcomed since her vision was hazing in and out, completely blurring through her miserable left eye. They'd stepped through her back door in relative silence, although she could see that he was battling a tidal wave of questions and concerns by the way he was clenching and unclenching the sharp line of his jaw. He had been less than thrilled with the timing of Emily's SOS call. If it were up to him, they'd actually be on their way to the hospital. That had been quite the extreme reaction from her perspective…but she also knew that if it was **_his_** puffy red eye in question, she would have been making similar demands.

She also knew that this entire incident was just further evidence in his case for enrolling at the Police Academy. His words from yesterday had been circling endlessly through her head from the moment Emily had revved the engine and sped away from the stables. Everything he'd said about becoming a cop—the access to police records, the insider knowledge, all of it—rang so indisputably true. This could change everything. As skeptical as she'd been about his decision, the idea of Toby wielding the advantage of a badge and a gun sounded a whole lot better after being stampeded just two hours ago.

It was a complete 180 from the last impulsive move he'd made behind her back. Maybe it was better than donning a damned black hoodie, but it was layered in the same frantic desperation and the thought of it still turned her stomach. Who knew how -A would react or what other implications it could bring over his head, over all of them. It was risky. It was reckless.

And it was so unbelievably selfless.

She watched him thoughtfully from her bleary peripheral as his steady footfalls tapered off to a stop at the perimeter of Ali's porch. With the strong profile of his nose and chin accentuated in the outline of faint light from the yellow windows and the fresh framework of his newly-cut hair, he just seemed so…brave. Resigned and worn-out, but _brave_. Even with the tearful acceptance she'd expressed to him just a few moments ago in her living room, there was still this piece of her heart that felt so burdened with the bold choice he'd made.

Just as he began to loosen his comforting hold on her hand, she tightened her own grip and shackled herself to him for an instant longer. "Hey, Toby?"

"What is it, Spence?" His pale eyes caught stardust from the heavens above, reflecting their otherworldly magic as he studied her features intently.

"I...I know I said I was okay with the cop thing—"

His mouth parted, but she pressed on rapidly before he could utter a word.

"And I stand by that, as long as you're sure...sure that this is what _you_ really want."

"It is," he replied with a calm insistence. "It's what's right for me, Spencer. It's what I need to do."

"But what about carpentry?" Her mouth quivered with unanticipated emotion, but she pushed past it impatiently, needing this conversation to go on for his sake. "You've talked about working up to a contractor position, maybe even getting into an architectural program someday. I hate that you're giving up on what you really want just to protect me."

He smiled softly down at her, his entire face crinkling at the vehemence in her short speech. "You don't get it, do you?"

The perplexed look she threw back at him was all the answer he needed. His hand smoothed over the crown of her mahogany hair as he kissed her temple with contented adoration. Bending closer to see her properly, Toby enclosed her cheekbones in his calloused palms before explaining himself with a quiet sincerity. "No job will bring me any peace, not any semblance of happiness or satisfaction—not until I've done everything I can to finish this. I'll never want anything as much as I want you, Spencer. Never. And that means I have to do whatever it takes to keep you alive long enough to…"

"To what?" Her voice caught over those two words, her belly swarming with giddiness at the zap of affection that lurked within his gleaming expression.

"To build a life away from here. To be together every day, to share everything…a house, our furniture, **my wardrobe**," he poked her teasingly, his dynamic inflection furthering the effect. "I don't care where or when. It's okay if we wait until you finish college or get your masters or—"

Her lips muffled the end of his sentence, cutting him off succinctly. She couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd wanted to—which she most certainly did _not_. Her feet shuffled forward when he reciprocated, their mouths moving in perfected synchronization as he enveloped her against his chest and tipped her head backward with a modest nudge from shy fingertips. The feel of his lips on hers was as familiar as everything around her—the street she'd grown up on, this yard, the layout of her house. She'd stored up every ounce of it, immersed herself in every idyllic memory that involved him and her and _this_. And that's how she knew.

"You're holding out on me, Tobes."

He went still, his arms remaining around her as he stepped fractionally backward. "Your eye, Spence—"

"Isn't a problem." She surged back into him, running her nails through his hair and tugging him down to her. He submitted fully to her petition this time, his mouth opening ravenously against hers, devouring her with all of the pent-up emotion that he'd been curbing up until now. The crook of his arm snuggled right into the contour of her narrow waist. She merged with him under the force of his exertion, their torsos slinking together as he kissed her lips, her chin, what he could reach of her neck.

"Better?" he murmured huskily from just beneath her earlobe.

"_Much_ better," she answered with an enchanted sigh. If only they could stay like this all night…

But as soon as the thought entered her mind, he seemed to intercept it. Toby returned to her mouth for one final kiss before angling away from her with a gruff clearing of his throat. "I should probably let you get inside."

Her body objected to the suggestion. She instinctively curled into his broad shoulder, the ache in her eye suddenly increasing tenfold. Everything somehow felt better when he was there. Without him…

Once again, Toby seemed to read right off the page of her muddled thoughts. His hand sank against the small of her back as he spoke into the curtain of her hair. "Are you sure about the ER? I can drive if you—"

She shook her head immediately, straightening to gaze up into a sea of the purest blue known to man. "I'm sure. It's just a little irritated, nothing worse than that."

He looked at her for a long time, his concentration unwavering as he scanned her face. "You'll call me if you need anything, right? I mean anything at all—if you change your mind about the hospital, if you run out of ice for your eye, or your mom doesn't come home tonight, or—"

"Hey, I get it," she interrupted with a reassuring hand slipping across his arm. "You're on speed dial, baby."

His eyes remained unblinkingly set on hers. "Even if it's the middle of the night. I mean it."

"I know." Her palms flattened over his coat as she tilted higher to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for coming over and everything. I'm sorry about this whole SOS thing…"

He nodded as she twirled a finger dismissively toward the DiLaurentis doorway. "Don't worry about it. Just…be careful in there, okay? I'm still not convinced by this supposed 'Alison is innocent' sob story."

"That makes two of us," she muttered with a scoff.

"Good. Now take care of yourself, please." He kissed her eyebrow with more tenderness than she even knew possible, doing what he could to transfer a tiny bit of healing power just above the thrashing wound. "Love you."

"Love you too," she whispered back, turning reluctantly and floating up the short set of steps. "Goodnight, Toby."

"Goodnight, Spencer." He didn't budge from his spot in the brittle grass, watching attentively until she'd made it all the way inside.

_How did I ever get so lucky with him?_

She smiled to herself as she watched his departing form through the foyer's window. She closed her eyes for a fortifying second, allowing herself a moment to daydream about the future he'd described, a night where there'd be no goodbyes. Imagine, a house all their own, a life they would build together…

But as her eyes fluttered open again, she caught sight of a parked cop car for the first time since they'd approached, only partially visible in the dark curving driveway. The remnants of her fantasy dissolved abruptly with a bitter shot of reality. Her current predicament had far more problems than it had solutions, and all of those problems were tied up in _this _damned house.

With a weighty sigh, Spencer trudged upstairs to deal with Alison's latest crisis. Daydreams would just have to wait.


	5. 5x09, Sacred Space

**_a/n:: Hello! This is an addition to 5x09, March of Crimes (aka the ep with an endless number of perf Spencer lines oh my gosh). Don't even ask me how this happened, but somehow this is by far the longest in the series up to this point...and yet Toby wasn't even in the episode. I'm a psycho. _**

**_Please leave some feedback! Love you all :) _**

* * *

"_So how was the eye doctor?_"

Spencer nearly sputtered with scathing laughter when her phone lit up with such an unknowingly naïve question. The eye appointment from hell had only been a handful of hours ago, but it now felt like an entire decade had passed since she'd last texted him about getting it scheduled. To say he'd been relieved would be the understatement of the year. Toby had all but threatened to throw her over his shoulder and haul her off to see the optometrist of his own volition. Naturally, he would want to follow up with her afterwards.

But how could she even begin to answer him? 'It was great, honey. Your evil stepsister was there too _and_ she brought a friend…who happened to look **just like her**. Plus –A left a disturbing message for me on the eye chart. It's all good, though. Thank God you made me go—my vision was crystal clear just when I needed it tonight. You know, to attack Noel Kahn with a rusty fire poker. Hope he's up on his tetanus shots.'

Yeah, that was probably not the kind of information you should spring on someone via text message. So she settled for the shorter version instead. "_My eye feels way better. I'll have to fill you in on some other stuff later …_"

He replied much faster than usual. "_What other stuff?_"

Then her phone dinged again an instant later. "_How late do you think this party will go?_"

She stared at his message for several slow ticks of the kitchen clock, futilely trying to process the meaning of the latter question. Then it hit her. Mrs. Montgomery's engagement party. That's where she was supposed to be right now. Her hand ghosted absently over the high collar of her embroidered dress. In the midst of everything else that was going on, she hadn't even taken a second to consider the deeper meaning behind the sudden change in plans. Poor Aria had put a lot of hours into her mom's event and now it was mysteriously deferred.

With a weighted sigh, she sent him her response. "_It got called off at the last minute. Just got home a little bit ago._"

Once again, her ringtone chimed almost directly after she hit the send button. Spencer grimaced at the neat row of letters occupying the glowing screen. He was already out and he'd be swinging by her house in less than five minutes. As badly as she wanted to see him, to curl up next to him and unload the tension of this incredibly long day, she really wasn't sure she could contain her walloping distress at the moment…and the idea of weeping pathetically in front of him for the second time in as many nights really wasn't ideal. After the perpetual hurricane of stress and suffering that their relationship had tolerated up to this point, it was no secret that he'd love her no matter what—but having a total basket case for a girlfriend had to be exhausting after a while.

She trudged distractedly toward the staircase with the intention of changing into something more casual, only making it about halfway into the living room when she decided against it. With all the effort she'd put into primping her hair and choosing an outfit, someone ought to actually see the finished product. Someone **_other_** than Noel Kahn, the most nauseating person on the planet.

A sudden crackling noise thundered from behind, sending her stomach south and tearing a scratchy gasp out of her throat. She spun back to face the kitchen with wobbly knees. It clinked again, the sound of it coming across much less sinister this time.

The ice machine. It was just the freezer's ice machine.

"Oh my god, Hastings. Get a freaking grip," she muttered condemningly to herself, talking aloud like the crazy person that she so evidently was. After pinning the refrigerator with an abhorrent glare, Spencer flopped forlornly onto the stiff chaise lounge and watched uninterestedly as her skirt fluffed out around her. She hated this furniture. It was just like her parents to choose the most minimalistic, starkly neutral, and all-around uncomfortable pieces that all their money could afford. What had it really mattered to them? It wasn't as if they'd ever spent any time sitting around in their own house anyway.

And where was she? Home alone, her favorite pastime.

But not for long_._ Toby arrived just under his projected five minute mark, tapping lightly on the glass door and rescuing her from the precarious monotony of her menacing thoughts.

"Hey," she said breathlessly, rising on her toes to kiss him hello in the doorway.

"Hey. Your eye looks a lot better." His hands melded against her upper arms as he stepped away just enough to take in her entire ensemble. He let out a low whistle, his appreciative regard flicking her over from head to toe. "And_, wow_."

Spencer fidgeted under his animated observation, pulling out of his hold and snatching her wool coat from the barstool behind her. "Thanks. Do you care if we go somewhere? I'm kind of sick of this place…anywhere else but here."

A crease formed between his eyebrows, clearly signifying a twinge of confusion at her odd request. But, acting like the angel she knew him to be, Toby went along with it as if nothing were awry. "Sure, of course. Have you eaten anything? Since the party was cancelled and all, I figured you might be hungry."

She was anything but hungry. More like queasy.

"Your choice, Spence. I'm up for whatever."

How could she refuse him? She knew how important little things like this could be to him, how much he worried over her appetite and whether or not she was sleeping at night. As suffocating as it could be to her, the way he expressed his concern was just as meaningful as hearing him say the words 'I love you.'

She shrugged wistfully, her smile tugging to one side as she reached for his hand. "It doesn't matter. Just avoid Main Street…I'd rather get away from everyone else for a while."

He returned the expression with an innate boyishness that she just adored. "I like that answer. Let's get going then."

Ever the gentleman, he propped his truck door open for her, gazing right through her with those piercing blue eyes that absolutely glimmered in the sinking dusk. "You really are gorgeous tonight. _Every_ night, actually. And I'm sorry about Aria's mom, but I'm glad I get you instead."

Spencer's heart stuttered from within her chest. When he looked at her like that, like she was the only girl he'd ever known…the only one he'd ever wanted…

They didn't get very far very fast. He kissed her for a long time against the steel frame of his tan Chevy, the heat of him—his body, his hands, his tongue—keeping her blissfully preserved against the wintery breeze. When he did finally release her, it was with a faraway look that made her dizzy in the best way possible. "I've got to quit now or we won't make it anywhere for the rest of the night."

She shivered, and it wasn't from the cold. "Food is overrated."

Toby's grin could have lit the entire block in radiant brightness. "I'll remember that fact for the next time I'm dealing with low blood sugar Spencer…"

"Very funny," she whined through a scrunched nose, her dress swishing with her as he propelled her forward into the awaiting passenger seat. "You're lucky you aren't dealing with the no-caffeine version of your girlfriend, because she would be biting your head off after such a disparaging comment."

A colossal smirk shaped his face. "It doesn't matter what version I'm dealing with. I'm always lucky."

He didn't wait for a response, but simply pressed a chaste kiss to her unsuspecting mouth and circled around to his side of the vehicle. They went on in an intimate hush, the twin beams of his headlights cutting through the ribbon of melancholy fog while the radio buzzed softly in the background. Spencer kept herself close to his side for the duration of the trip—her hand in his for as long as the road would allow it, then scooting in even nearer to rest her head on his durable shoulder. Words fell away as she let her brain unwind. He didn't make any effort to interrupt the quiet spell, only leaning in every so often to kiss her forehead or run the row of his knuckles across her knee. By the time his turn signal came to life just off of Route 30, her eyes were barely even open anymore.

"Spence? We're here, sweetheart." Toby wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders, his fingers tunneling smoothly into her russet curls.

She blinked with a muddled dimness, her eyes locking on an old-fashioned neon sign that blazed luminously against the dappled sky. "The Village Café? Never heard of it."

"I used to pass it all the time on the way to Bucks County…it always seemed like a _you_ kind of place, but I forgot about it until tonight. Does it look okay? Because there are a few chain restaurants up a little farther if you want something more familiar."

Her insides flurried at the thoughtfulness he'd put into this impromptu dinner. He'd taken notice of a tiny hole-in-the-wall diner because of her? After hearing him talk like that, there was nowhere she'd rather eat. She tilted her head a fraction higher and found his mouth to be instantly ready and willing. Toby clutched her bottom lip between both of his, manipulating it slowly while his hands combed through her hair and molded to her neck. He broke the kiss with an irrepressible exhale, his irises plummeting into a tempting midnight shade as he peered at her through the shadowy interior. "That's a yes, right?"

An unexpected giggle trickled out of her. It was like he'd obliterated every terrible thing that had occurred in the span of such a rotten day, replacing it all with pure elation. "A definite yes."

"Then shall we?"

They both slid out through his door, his arm remaining around her while they strolled toward the cozy-looking restaurant. The peal of a brassy bell went off as he led her through the glass paneled entrance.

"Toby, it's perfect," she crooned along with the welcoming gust of warmth that enveloped them. Black and white photographs hung in an eclectic collage that spanned the entire room, the ambiance tinted in golden lamplight and set off by a charming assortment of mismatched furnishings. And if the décor hadn't been enough to create an appealing dining experience, then the wafting scent of homemade bread would have done the trick all on its own.

They were seated immediately, slipping into a deep booth in the back corner. Two things struck Spencer almost simultaneously—first of all, this was the most date-like thing they'd done in what felt like forever…

And that the last time they'd sat across from each other in a booth like this, it had been under drastically different circumstances. She allowed herself to go there for only a second. How horrible that night had been, how completely dark and dismal everything had felt when she'd pulled that hood over her head and waited in excruciating turmoil for his arrival. It was like someone had hollowed out her best parts and only left a shell behind, a mere substitute for the person she'd once been. Then they'd been face to face and he hardly seemed to be doing any better than her. His eyes had been lifeless that night, his voice tainted with a hard glint. Then later, the tears came in a deluge, evidence of the profound fracture that they'd both endured…

But the man sitting before her today was a totally new picture altogether. Every bit of him was charged with a striking vitality. His gaze flipped between her and the paper menu, his mouth quirking in a small smile when he found her looking right back at him. The strength of his long, lean fingers channeled into her as he played with her hand atop the whitewashed table. They'd come so far in such a short amount of time. It was something she took for granted much too often, the vivid connection that they'd somehow managed to keep alive even when everything else seemed as dead and barren as an August drought. If there was ever an example of love's limitless power, they were the God-honest proof through and through.

"Is the menu written on my forehead, Spencer?"

She flushed at the playful remark, feeling silly at the sensation of being caught staring. "How about you just order for me, Tobes."

His eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. What, you think I'm such a control freak that I can't trust my boyfriend of more than a year to order something I like?"

He laughed in a manner than succinctly answered her question without using a single word. Before they could banter any further, their waitress returned with his ice water and a steaming mug of coffee for Spencer. "You kids ready or do you need more time?"

Toby eyed her suspiciously from his seat. "I don't know, are we ready?"

She gave him a quick nod, her mischievous smile coming unbidden. It was kind of fun making him squirm like this. If she had to guess, he'd claim she was enjoying it a little too much.

But for all of his theatrics, he passed the test with flying colors. "I'll have the bacon burger please, everything on it. A Mediterranean wrap for my gorgeous date here," he inserted with a light squeeze from his hand to hers, "and an order of fries to share."

The moment the waitress had disappeared, Spencer leaned forward and tousled the cluster of wheat-colored locks that spiked up away from his face. "See? You had nothing to worry about. Although I could have done without the part where you referred to me as your gorgeous date."

His chuckle came easily. "Too 1950s for my favorite post-modern feminist?"

"No, that's not it…I just don't know how to take a compliment unless it has to do with my GPA."

It flew off her tongue flippantly, but his happy expression faltered once it escaped her mouth. "You've got a million things going for you, Spence. You know you're worth more than your grades, right?"

"I know, Toby. It was just a joke." She stirred her coffee absentmindedly, wanting to do anything she could to maintain the carefree atmosphere. It felt like they'd discovered sacred space and she was desperately grasping at the elusive escape it offered her.

"Did something happen at school today?" he pressed on nonetheless, whether out of obliviousness or purposeful disregard, she couldn't really discern for sure. "Is that what you meant earlier when you said there was other stuff going on?"

_School_? School had been the least of her worries for the better part of two years now. "No, nothing like that."

His hand closed over her frantic fingers, stilling the clink of her spoon and forcing her eyes to his. "You're really starting to freak me out here. I think I've been pretty patient so far, but I need to know what's going on before I break out in hives or something."

He always had this miraculous way of masking his frustration with the sweetest of undertones, never coming across as demanding or aggravated, approaching her with a touch that was just as tender as his soothing voice. It was one of the things she admired most about him. His spirit was so irrefutably reassuring no matter what she was putting him through.

So she swallowed past her selfish desire for avoidance and dove in headfirst. "Jenna was at the eye doctor today and she wasn't there alone."

Toby's brow furrowed and his hold loosened. "Jenna? Who was she with?"

"Sydney something? I don't know her, but I guess she's been hanging out with Emily through swim team. And the weirdest part was…I know it sounds crazy, but they could have passed for identical twins. I thought I was losing it or seeing double or…I don't know. That's why I begged Em to come and see them for herself, and she can back me up on this. Do you have any idea why Jenna needs a stunt double? Has she mentioned any new friends lately?"

His face went slack with the inquiry. "No, but I'm hardly in the loop when it comes to Jenna's list of warped pen pals. Did you say Emily is friends with this girl?"

"Yeah, but from Emily's reaction, I'm suspecting that Sydney was a plant all along. Another Jenna puppet at work…" She began to rub fretfully at her still-sore eye, but Toby seized her hand with a cautionary scowl.

"Maybe I should try to talk to her, get a read on what she's up to," he spoke quietly, binding both of her hands between the pair of his own.

"Toby, _no_." She grabbed ahold of his wrists, feeling like the walls were creeping in on them at his appalling suggestion. "I'm not asking you to do that."

He smiled sadly at her fervent disapproval. "I didn't say you were, but it might help."

"It won't. She'd never tell you anything of value, not when she knows we're together. And…" Spencer paused, trying in vain to subdue the rising anxiety from her voice box, "…and I don't think I could survive a breakup right now, even if it was a fake one."

When she finally let herself look back up at him again, his knotted features were showcasing a level of tortured emotion that could potentially rival hers. "There's more going on than just Jenna, isn't there?"

Why did he always have to expose her weaknesses so seamlessly? Sometimes she really hated herself for displaying such transparency in his presence. "Isn't there always more? I…I went out to the lake house tonight. Emily went digging around in Noel Kahn's locker, and she came up with some really damning evidence that…that blows Alison's kidnapping story completely out of the water. And I needed to hide it, get it somewhere safe until we could figure out what to do next…"

"Spencer," her name ground out between his gritted teeth, a fury climbing in his eyes as he let go of her entirely. "Tell me you didn't go there alone. _At night_."

"I did." She said almost inaudibly, her attention carefully trained on the handle of her coffee mug. "And Noel was there too."

Toby's hands scoured over his jaw, his eyes, then nearly tore a clump of hair right out of his scalp. "Why is it that the smartest girl I know is always making the same atrocious decisions over and over again?"

He'd muttered it mostly to himself, but she heard his question anyway and it bruised her at her core. She didn't even consider responding. Staring down into the piping brown liquid, she went on in a low voice. "I don't know how he got out there ahead of me…how he even knew that's where I'd go or that I was the one who had his stuff. And I _really_ don't get what's going on between him and Ali…one minute he seems to be on her side, the next he's spouting off about needing an insurance policy in case she turns on him."

"Did he hurt you?"

She met Toby's distraught gaze with a sincere apology in her eyes. "No. Gave me the scare of my life, but he didn't hurt me. Other way around actually."

One corner of his mouth elevated just slightly. "What did you do to him?"

"Slashed his hand with a fire poker. He was pretty pissed about it."

She'd upturned a thin chuckle from him with her caustic delivery. "God, Spencer. Half of me wants to be infuriated with you, but then I have to ask myself why I even worry. You _slashed_ his hand?!"

Her shoulder lifted in a modest shrug. "Fight or flight impulse. Fight won out."

He wanted to be amused. She could read it in every minor nuance of his body language. But apparently his sterner side wasn't done yet. "You should have never been out there by yourself. It could have been so much worse…"

"I know. It wasn't my wisest move." She reached for him and he gave in, taking her hand back and laying a short kiss on her palm. "But do I need to remind you that this lecture is coming from a guy who ran straight into a burning building just last week? Hello pot, this is the kettle calling."

Toby rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Fair enough. We've both experienced a shortage in the common sense department from time to time."

"So we're even?"

"Yes, but we're not done. This Ali thing…I know we've been talking about it from the second she got back, and yet…"

Spencer bent further over the tabletop, her thumb gliding along a prominent vein in his forearm. "And yet?"

He sighed again, his mouth puckering. "It feels like you're just spinning in circles with her. I don't want to be pushy, because it's not about me or my feelings. But this whole run-in with Noel, on top of everything else…which straw will be the last one, Spence?

She silenced the ironic snort that almost emerged, internally acknowledging the fact that he was articulating this concern without even knowing the finer details of last night's scandal at the Marin household. Pinching the bridge of her nose and letting out a long breath, she filtered through all that had gone on since New York and did what she could to compile a suitable reply. "You're right. I've been putting this off, hoping…God, this makes me sound awful, but I've honestly been hoping that Alison would just do the hard part for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing specific…I've just been waiting for the other shoe to drop, I guess. I was sure that she'd do something so horrific that we'd all turn our backs on her automatically. Or maybe even worse, that she would have jumped ship by now, disappeared all over again and left us with the broken pieces. In spite of everything else I may have said out loud, my expectations have been in the ditch from day one. I never expected her to last this long."

She hadn't even noticed the renegade tear slithering down her cheek until he stretched toward her to brush it away. Their waitress chose that unfortunate moment to resurface with their meals, forcing Spencer to straighten her posture and keep her eyes down until the older woman had bustled back toward the kitchen. A long pause filled the air between them until she finally corrected her throat, wanting to rein in her emotions before they exploded all over the restaurant. "I'm sorry, Toby. I have no idea where that came from…I didn't mean to get upset…"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Spencer? You never have to apologize for this, not to me."

He stood suddenly, his shoulders squared against whatever objection she might make. Toby was on her side of the table in three quick strides, the cushioned bench dipping with his weight as he slid in next to her. He pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes before speaking in a rich murmur. "Like I said, I don't want you to decide anything for me. It needs to come from you…**just** you."

"You think I'm holding on for the sake of my friends," she said flatly, not even bothering to pose it as a question when she was certain that it wasn't one.

"That's not for me to say. But here's what I know be to true—you've got killer instincts, sweetheart. Better than that, you're never too proud to back off and change your mind when people prove you wrong. Look at us. We wouldn't be here if that weren't the case." He tapped the indent in her chin, his baby blues focused and determined. "You need to trust yourself, okay? Even if they don't understand it right away, your friends—your _real_ friends—will eventually follow suit. They've stuck with you for the worst of it, which isn't something I can say about Alison."

And there he'd gone and done it. Her eyes were brimming once again. "How can you be so sure of everything?"

"Because I _know_ you. I see you for who you really are, even when you can't see it for yourself." His arms went around her and she gladly wilted into his embrace. How had she lived for 16 whole years without him? It was like she'd never known the meaning of home until he'd opened the door—both literally and metaphorically—and let her into his life.

They eventually parted from their drawn-out entangling, but only after Spencer reminded him that his burger would be ice cold if he didn't start to eat it soon. Toby didn't dislodge himself entirely from her side though. Instead, he hauled her legs up into his lap and let his free arm drape over her back. It was exactly what she needed, to be wedged in this obscure little corner of the world with the only person who could put her restless heart at ease. They shared bites of everything, scarcely talking above a whisper, huddling together like they were meeting in some sort of secret rendezvous.

The check came too soon. Spencer tried not to shiver as he returned her feet to the floor and withdrew the heat of his hand from her neck. It was absurd. They weren't even truly separating yet, not when Rosewood was still several miles down the highway. Even so, the thought of trading in the friendly seclusion of this café for the turbulence of the real world made her shudder in stubborn opposition.

"Ready, Spence?" His hand extended toward her, his eyes beckoning her to him.

"Yeah," she replied as she accepted his offering. "But we're coming back here again, okay? Whenever we need a hideaway from the madness that dominates our lives, this is it. This is where we're coming."

A massive grin colored his handsome features. "It's a date."

And with that, they bundled against each other and spilled out into the taciturn winter night.


	6. 5x11, Shifting Daylight

**_ok, not sure if this is really my greatest :/_**

_**Maybe I should have left this episode alone bc I feel like I didn't have much to add once I got into it, but I'll let you guys be the judge of that. Once again, huge thanks to all who have reviewed/favorited/followed this! You're all so fab :)**_

* * *

His foot is heavy on the accelerator. As important as this whole cop thing is to him, it can't take the sting out of all that's left behind when he has to hit the road. It's not like Harrisburg is really that far, but a distance of only five feet can be too much sometimes. He _needs_ her. Despite what she may believe, he needs her just as much as she needs him. And it's then that the little seeds of doubt swirl through his brain, hissing a sordid possibility that makes him ill—what if something happens to her before he's fully equipped to stop it? The idea of Police Academy hasn't lost its appeal, but he's been plagued with the prospect that all of this training could be taking him away from Rosewood just as Spencer lands herself in the eye of the storm.

He feels a familiar uproar in his chest as he replays their phone conversation in his head. He'd already been on his way back before she'd called, but now the earnestness in her appeal has him reckless with the desire to just be there. It never fails to amaze him, the way her words can generate such a cascade of emotion in him. In one second she's teasing him in that sensual raspy voice of hers, deliberating over which nickname will be best suited for when his uniform makes its inevitable first appearance. He knows _that_ voice, the 'Cadet Toby' voice, and it comes in just the right tone, multiplying the frequency of his pulse and turning his blood to hot lava. Clearly she'd been lying to him the last time they'd discussed it. This was much more of a turn-on than she'd been willing to admit in the swell of righteous anger that had erupted over his abrupt career change.

But in true Spencer fashion, she'd steamrolled right over his heart a few seconds later as a new set of fond words crackled across the phone line. "_It's always easier when you're here_."

Didn't she know what that did to him? In only six words, she'd set his soul aflame with a myriad of irrational declarations that he was just dying to proclaim aloud. You want me to make it easier? Okay, then I'll never leave you again. We can do anything, go anywhere. Let's see London together this time. Forget high school, forget -A, forget your parents, and just_ run away with me. _

He'd literally sunk his molars into the insides of his cheeks to keep that stream of senselessness to himself. They could fantasize about escaping all day long, but it wouldn't happen. It wasn't the world she lived in, especially when her friends still needed her to get them through all of this. His only choice was to get back to her with a gush of lightning speed. It was probably a good thing that he wasn't officially on the force yet, or he'd probably be abusing his power with the simple switch of a siren. He could already guess that his definition of emergency didn't quite fall in line with that of his superiors.

The miles unraveled quickly before him, his truck rumbling over the city limits just as the afternoon sun reemerged from a ridge of foreboding clouds. As much as he hated this place, Toby couldn't help but smile as a ray of the rarest platinum hue descends over him, welcoming back to the only home he'd ever known. Welcoming him back to _her_.

And now eagerly stationed at the brink of his journey's end, he tries—with minimal success—to moderate the enthusiasm in his knock. He doesn't need to startle her. Better yet, the miniscule possibility of another member of the Hastings clan answering his appeal also hovers in his mind. With the instability that is wedged so deeply into the crumbling foundation of this family, he really never knows who or what waits for him on the other side of that door.

That last thought smacked him over the head as he reexamines it from another angle—how the hell had Spencer become such a remarkable person when this was the kind of environment she'd grown up in? It wasn't new to him, the realization that her parents and sister seemed to be from an entirely foreign planet…but the _why_ behind their differences was still such a mystery. Sure, she carries a large number of familial traits within her perfectionist personality. Their DNA undeniably runs through her. And yet there is still this incredible beating heart that sets her apart from the rest of them. How had she done it? How had she gotten past the biases of her upbringing? And how had she chosen him, of all people…?

A hasty click shakes past the web of his musings, and then her arms are around him before he can even catch a glance of her beautiful face.

"You're back."

"I'm back," he mumbles redundantly as his face dips into the luxurious seclusion of her shining hair. "I missed you. Even a couple of days is…"

"Intolerable. You don't have to tell me, Tobes. I'm more than aware." Her words resonate against his collarbone, jolting his nervous system as her skin kindles against his.

He pilots her backward, pulling the door with him as his other arm keeps her clasped compactly to him. "It'll be over soon, baby. I'm doubling up on sessions while I'm there, trying to cram it in as much as—"

"You're not overdoing it, are you? I know what I said the other night…about graduating early and everything, but I didn't actually mean—"

Toby cuts right back in, interrupting the interrupter. "I'm doing it for _me_, Spencer. You're not the only one who's anxious for resolution here."

She chews at the corner of her mouth, taking a short breather from the rapid-fire dialogue that always launches itself as soon as they're occupying the same space. "Okay, if you say you're sure. I just know I have the inherited tendency to be overbearing, and I never want to pressure you into something that isn't your idea."

Talk about irony. Only a moment ago, he'd been reflecting on how she'd isolated herself from the worst of those inherited tendencies and yet here she was, shouldering the weight of her legacy as if she was the guiltiest of all. "Listen to me, Spencer. You are **not** overbearing. You're passionate and you're sincere and unbelievably articulate, maybe more blunt than anyone I've ever known. Your standpoint matters to me. I will always want to hear what you have to say, okay?"

Her eyes are rounder and darker than usual as her finger feather against his neck. "You know, you are _really_ good for my self-esteem, Cadet Toby."

His face twists with a sardonic grin. "I'm not getting out of that one, am I?"

"Sir, no sir," she whispers seductively as her lips inch up to greet his in a languid sweep of affection.

He's pressing into her, his eyes drooping shut as he cups her jawline and navigates through the room by memory. There's always this inexplicable tension with them. It didn't matter if they're on cloud nine or headed for a shattering crash, that same tension is constantly fizzing and popping at the surface of every interaction—a hunger beyond base attraction, something like chemistry but more potent, more irrevocable. And it is clawing violently at his insides now, freshly awakened and begging for a fiery release.

They collapse onto the sofa in impeccable unison. She sighs pleasurably against his mouth and begins to recline away from him, but Toby is far from finished. His lips fall chaotically over her long neck, both of his arms fastening around her slight form, cuddling her partway into his lap as he continues his attack over the span of her sensitive white skin.

"T-Toby," she all but moans, her fingers carving into his hair and over his back. "I…we need to talk about…about…"

"In a minute. We've got all afternoon." He bites down lightly at the base of her shoulder, feeling thwarted by the neckline of her dress which is blocking him from advancing any farther.

Her sharp intake of oxygen—combined with a subtle arching of her back that sends him spinning—is all the encouragement he needs to proceed. He's kissing his way back up to her mouth, reintroducing his tongue to hers, working fanatically to satisfy the cravings he's never able to deny. Being near to her is addictive, essential, a vital longing that reaches down into the most remote crevices of his existence. Spencer—subliminally sensing that same longing in herself—yields completely, her torso colliding into him as she meets his every stride with paralleled stamina.

In a gradual, simmering sluggishness, Toby brings himself back into his accustomed state of composure. He wasn't usually this unbridled around anyone, not even her. Whatever she needs, whatever was going on with their friends, he is there and he has to get ahold of himself or he'll never be able to help. Yes, he'd hurried back to town at her request, but there was more to it than that. Caleb had stuck his neck out for Toby not so long ago and this might be his chance to return a very well-deserved favor.

An apology skips across his lips as he creeps back, but he halts his words when his eyes pour over the immense serenity in her sated expression. She appears to be happy, relieved even. Her long limbs remain in place as those huge doe eyes chart a path across the planes of his face. Apparently she's felt the frozen deprivation of being apart just as surely as he had.

"You're going to make an excellent authority figure," she murmurs huskily, a distinctive silkiness coating the truth of her affirmation.

He stares into her copper-rimmed gaze with the stupor of a sleepwalker before dragging her in for another loud, sumptuous kiss. While he isn't sure if she's quite right about that claim, he recognizes where she is coming from; if he could quiet her for even a second longer than she'd originally planned, he's arrived at an enormously impressive accomplishment. Spencer wasn't easily deferred from any agenda that she put forward, often not even slowing herself down for the ones she loves most.

But there she was, her body adhering effortlessly to the shape of his as they slip into casual conversation. He keeps his voice ambiguously smooth on the subject of her family's whereabouts, clinging to the lilt of her world-weary response while his fingers moved absently against her arm. It takes a lot out of him every time, the amount of exertion he has to put in to guard himself against his spurting resentment. Spencer was worthy of everything, deserving of the whole damn universe, and yet her parents failed her over and over and over again. She'd been deceived, taught through actions rather than words that her life was not valuable enough to interfere with theirs. They might be hurting in the hole of their own private post-split pain, but that was no excuse—she was hurting too, and they were exceptionally selfish to not acknowledge that.

He tunes back in with greater intent as she transitions the topic back to Hanna's dilemma over Caleb, stretching his arm across the sofa as he processes his girlfriend's concerns. Spencer was much more of a natural meddler than he would ever be, so Toby sits quietly and only prods further when her own convictions start to waver. To be honest, he isn't jumping at the idea of poking around obtrusively for a peek at his friend's inner demons. Maybe it stems from his own extensive history of personal heartache, the experience he has with things that couldn't be explained, things that hurt too much to easily share with anyone else. Toby could respect a guy who preferred to sweat it out in silence. That was definitely his default setting, so maybe it was just a part of Caleb's nature as well.

But the rippling current of Spencer's apprehensive voice summons him closer. She's right…_haunted_ is exactly the word to describe the raw desolation that's been wearing itself plainly across Caleb's face lately. Her lip plunges lower as she introduces the notion of the intervention that will be camouflaged as a double date. It isn't his style. It would be outrageously uncomfortable and completely fraudulent, two things he really tries to avoid at all costs.

"Please, Toby? Hanna is really getting desperate and I don't know what else to do. I've tried talking to him already and I failed miserably. But you…you might really be able get through to him…"

He's lost all footing now and he's hideously aware of his impending surrender. Her fractured pride is stinging at the admission of supposed failure, throbbing so strongly inside of him to the point where her sense of despair is so profound that he's half convinced that it's his own. "I can't guarantee it will do any good."

She sits up a little higher. "Is that a yes?"

The air goes out of him as her eyes gleam with hopeful expectation. "Of course it's a yes."

Her smile crinkles at the edges and she awards him with a short burst of a laugh. "Thank you. It's on me, okay? Hanna will be ecstatic."

"I'm not sure Hanna can spell 'ecstatic,'" he retorts with a satirically domed eyebrow, earning another indulgent giggle, "but I'm willing to give it a shot."

Toby would have been perfectly content with her vocalized gratitude, but he's wonderfully surprised when she slings a leg over him and reconnects their mouths. Her soft locks spiral into a curtain around his face and there's an immediate tranquility that rushes over him. She revs it up a notch, clamping her slender hands to his shoulders and gnawing gently on his bottom lip. They tip over over then—it's not like he can resist the temptation of having the entire length of her body sculpting into the surface of his. Spencer bunches his t-shirt between her fingers with a lurid hum. It's fairly astounding to him that she doesn't already have the cotton material up over his head, but after a few more dawdling seconds, she lets him in on the reason for her hesitation.

"I need to call Hanna about tonight," she whirrs lazily into his chin. And yet as soon as the words leave her, her lips are back on his, her hands rearranging the shape of his spiked hair.

He unashamedly takes advantage of their position, crisscrossing his hands down over the length of her dress, letting his touch glide across the contours of her waist and backside. She trembles in reply and stamps several open kisses against his throat.

"_Spence_..."

Her eyes are glazed when they dart up to find his. "Mmm?"

"You should..." he swallows twice before he can speak again, "...go make your call, Spencer. Knowing our track record, you'll be mad at me an hour from now when Hanna's been texting you like a madwoman and we've been...well..._unresponsive_."

She snorts in the cutest possible way, the smirk of acknowledgment giving her a cunning cat-like appearance. "Yeah, that does sound familiar, doesn't it?"

Toby pulls her in with both hands at the base of her skull and traps her in a thorough kiss. With his eyes still closed, he whispers back, "The best kind of familiar. Now call Hanna before I stop thinking rationally."

"Affirmative, Cadet," she grins as she rolls off of him and rises to her feet.

His chuckle echoes from deep within, his eyes following her sashaying path toward the kitchen. He can't bring himself to tell her that no one at the Academy refers to the incoming recruits as cadets. She'll get away with it for as long as she wants to, something they both recognize without a word passing between them.

He busies himself with some mindless reading material at first, not wanting to intrude on the discussion that's taking place a few feet away. But Spencer's voice begins to climb and he scowls against the potential implications of her panic. He finds himself straining for Hanna's side of the exchange, desperately wishing to have the whole context of what's going on.

And as soon as he thinks he's piecing something together, a brusque knocking invades the room.

Begrudgingly, Toby fulfills her request and meets the courier at the door—in an instant, he's positive that this is a monumental delivery, perhaps even more imperative than whatever's coming across the phone line. It doesn't take a lot to make the obvious link. Philadelphia International? Melissa is making contact.

The envelope suddenly weighs heavily in his hands as he tries to inhale discreetly. He's never trusted the elder Hastings sister, but now more than ever, Spencer seems to be perilously grappling with what her family is really capable of…and this could be it, the answer key to almost two decades of confusion.

He attempts a brave face as he turns back to her, not wanting to cast his doubts before she can make up her own mind. "Your sister isn't at the Edgewood Motor Court."

Although the sun is still blinking through the wall of windows at their side, it feels like all light has gone out of the house. He supposes that it's really one in the same, since all light truly has gone out of her eyes. She doesn't utter a sound. She doesn't have to. He knows that the package is taunting her mercilessly with the precision of its tidy script.

"You want some privacy?"

Her mouth gives him a cautious yes, yet her gaze is frightened and uncertain. Toby falters at the threshold of his conscience. He has no problem giving her space, but another Spencer lingers in his mind—a memory of a girl who was lost in the grips of painful withdraw symptoms—and his gut revolts at the thought of leaving her alone with something that has the power to destroy her.

He doesn't move quickly. The envelope is like a dense barrier between them, so he removes it carefully, setting it on the counter behind her. Then he slides his arms around her waist and holds her rigid body firmly against his.

"I'll see you tonight, okay?" He mutters against her ear. "And call me if you decide you don't want that privacy after all. You don't have to do this by yourself."

She nods with a vacant severity and it does little to flatten the expanse of his dread.

"Spencer?"

Her hands fiddle with his shirt as she looks up at him. "I'll be fine, Toby. Really."

His lips slope over her rumpled brow. "Really?"

"Yes." She smiles weakly and strokes his cheek with her fingertips. "We're meeting Hanna at 6:45 for the pregame huddle."

He almost laughs at the silly and needlessly dramatic phrasing of her instructions. But his vision catches on that damn envelope just over her shoulder and a morose premonition fills him instead.

With another tender kiss and a short goodbye—which includes the obligatory warning of 'lock the door behind me'—Toby walks back out into the shifting daylight and prays for something as extraordinarily unrealistic as good news. Does such a thing even exist anymore?

He's pretty sure it doesn't…especially not from someone as characteristically duplicitous as Melissa Hastings. He crosses his fingers anyway, hoping with restless anticipation that Caleb's intervention won't have to turn into Spencer's.


	7. 5x12, Wide Awake

**_HEY! I promise that I've been working on this FOREVER but unfortunately I just had a lot of interruptions :( _**

**_Little disclaimer – I have intensely avoided other 5x12 fics so hopefully this still feels fresh...if not, blame my lack of imagination because I can assure you that this was only a product of my brain and an obsessive love for all things Spoby._**

**_Special thanks to a lovely guest reviewer & SpobyFicStalker – it means the world to me that both of you had enough interest in this to track me down and give me a much-needed push! I love the encouragement!_**

* * *

"Have you gone to check-in yet, honey?"

Spencer squinted upward, her vision blurred with the aftermath of her tears. She peered blankly at the woman who towered over her, trying in vain to process whatever she'd just been asked. "What?"

"Did you go to the front desk when you got here? You've been sitting here for a long time…lots of other people have been called, people who came in after you. What is it, something with your head? A migraine?"

The nurse was looking at her so earnestly, gesturing toward the receptionist with a curious smile. Delayed understanding finally boomeranged through Spencer's cobwebbed brain. "Oh…oh, no…I'm not here for me. My boyfriend—" she faltered momentarily, trying to suppress an impending sob, "—he was in a car wreck…b-but I don't know anything because I'm not considered family and…and I've been sitting out here waiting …"

_Waiting because there's nothing I can do to fix this_.

A crushing wave of regret threatened to drown her, but the older woman rescued her from the self-inflicted agony by reaching out and patting her arm. "What's his name, honey? I'll see what I can do."

"Toby Cavanaugh," she blurted desperately, the sound of it bounding out of her like a restless dog that's been caged up for too long.

With a short nod and a squeak of her spotless white shoes, the nurse took off across the tiled floor with a determination that Spencer instantly admired. She tried to stretch out the kinks in her lower back, arching this way and that to find a relief that wouldn't come; there would be no way for her to get comfortable, not when Toby could be…

_No_. He wouldn't dare leave her now. Not after everything. Not when the rest of her life was so dismal, so wildly out of control. He said she wouldn't ever be alone, and if there's anything she knows about Toby Cavanaugh, it's that he was a man of his word. It might have been irrational to cling to something like that in a situation that was so clearly beyond his control, but that didn't matter. It was her lifeline and she wasn't about to let go of it.

The heels of her hands dug brutally against her gritty eyes, doing anything possible to dismiss the incredible pressure that had built up beneath her skull. It was really no wonder why she'd been mistaken for a prospective patient. She felt like she could pass out at any second, stress was hammering at her temples, and her stomach was revolting against her.

"Are you sure you're okay, girlie? I don't think I've ever seen someone go as pale as you and I've been at this for nearly three decades."

Spencer's head snapped up, her pulse tripling. The last thing she wanted to talk about was herself. "How's Toby? Is he in surgery? Is he okay?"

"He's doing just fine. It was a minor procedure to reset the bone and they're getting him settled into a recovery room as we speak. Why don't ya come along with me to the OR waiting room and we'll go from there."

She was on her feet so fast that she nearly tripped over her own shoes.

A firm hand clasped her wrist. "Easy, there…what's your name, honey?"

"Spencer," she returned, her gaze already searching beyond the woman's shoulder. Would they let her see him? She didn't want to be in a waiting room. She only wanted to be in _his_ room.

"Alright, Spencer. No need to get yourself in a tizzy. Come on now."

She let the nurse steer her off into another wing, her mind roiling endlessly as her legs moved on autopilot. She barely knew what was happening around her. Her eyes roved in every direction without actually seeing a thing. Suddenly she was being deposited onto a drooping loveseat, a fleece blanket falling around her shoulders.

"Sit tight, there. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Spencer nodded, her brow crumpling. This smaller space was better than the cold glare of the ER, but it still wasn't where she needed to be. She gradually sank backward, succumbing to the pull of sagging cushions as she closed her eyes.

_Breathe. In and out. Just breathe. He's going to be okay._

The words looped through her mind over and over again. Around and around, a mantra that pacified her heart, almost a petition for her brain to convince itself. If she could say it enough times then it would have to be true, right?

And that went on until she fell into a fitful sleep, her anxious fingers at last releasing the twisted-up blanket as her head slanted limply to the side.

* * *

"Anything else I can get for you?"

Toby grunted, shook his head, and tried not to flinch as the orderly adjusted his leg once more.

"Any_one_ else I can get for you?"

The slight change was like a blazing neon signal that warmed him from the inside out. He pushed himself up on his elbows and narrowed his gaze. "Is she here?"

As soon as the question left him, he realized the foolishness behind it. How could they know who he was referring to? And better yet, why get his hopes up? They surely had some policy against visiting at—he strained to read the time from the corner of the muted TV screen—2:14 am.

He grimaced at that information. This night had certainly not turned out the way he'd anticipated.

But the overly cheery night shifter was oblivious to his inner turmoil. "Don't hesitate to hit the button if you want me to come back for anything…something tells me you won't be needing that, though."

Toby didn't even have time to question that statement. It wasn't even a full second later when she materialized in a way that was practically supernatural, her smile weary but dauntless as she appeared at the door and slipped across the room.

"Spencer," he breathed out unevenly, ignoring the pinched feeling shooting from the jostled cast as he attempted to sit up straighter.

"Oh God, Toby, are you okay? I…" she sniffled and sat delicately at the edge of his bed, immediately taking either side of his jaw in her hands, "…I'm so sorry. This is—"

"Don't, Spencer. If you even start to claim that this was your fault, I'll…" he scrambled through his sluggish brain, frantically seeking a viable ultimatum as he grasped her slender wrists and held her in place, "I'll get you kicked out of here."

She seemed briefly terrified by the notion, but her expression faded into drowsy apathy a second later. "I don't believe you."

Toby chuckled wryly. "Hmm. Neither do I."

Her retorting spurt of caustic laughter injected life into the otherwise stale air. "Well we're in agreement then. I'm staying."

"You better be," he murmured wistfully while he toyed with the ends of her cinnamon hair. He let his gaze trail over her face several times, noting the shrill red lines spreading through her heavy eyes. "Were you alone out there this whole time?"

She stole his hand away, gripped it between both of hers, then flattened it over her heart. "Not the whole time. Em was here earlier. I sent her home around midnight."

His voice dipped a notch lower. "You've been crying."

"Can you blame me?" Her mouth bent sideways. "If I had been on time like I said I would—"

"Then maybe it wouldn't have happened. Or who knows? Maybe it would have. Either way, **you** didn't cause this." He squeezed her hand, ducking his head to catch her as she tried to look away. "You weren't the one who blew past the stop sign, plowed through the intersection and t-boned me, were you?"

An argument was brewing between her eyebrows. "No, but—"

"That's right, the answer is no. It wasn't you." Toby brought her soft hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. She blinked a few times, her posture collapsing into a tiny ball as she huddled down around her knees, a waterfall of her dark tresses concealing her face from him.

"I still feel awful."

He hated how she did this to herself. It didn't matter what he said, she was still going to punish herself even if he begged her not to. With a herculean effort, Toby rearranged himself a bit more to the left and stretched his hand out to rub her back. She stiffened at first, but didn't attempt to pull away. He followed the curve of her spine in what felt like suffocating silence, knowing that she wouldn't hear a word of comfort until she was ready to forgive herself. The tension slowly disintegrated from her rigid muscles and she eased closer to him as the minutes ticked by. He let out a wobbly breath, one he hadn't known he'd been holding, his fingers skating higher against her neck as he tried to phrase his suggestion in advance. It probably didn't make a difference how it came out. She'd never agree, but he had to give it a shot anyway. "Maybe you should go home for a while, Spencer. I'm fine here and I think you could use the rest."

She flung herself upwards with a startling vehemence. "You just said that you wanted me to stay. I'm **not** leaving."

"There's no reason for you to be up all night, okay? You can see that there's nothing too scary here, just a broken bone and a few bruises."

His intention was to offer soothing reassurance, but his words were somehow having the reverse effect. Her voice was steely this time, brittle and resolute to the core. "No, Toby. I'll be right here until they force me out."

He already knew it was worthless. His assertion came softer this time, realizing defeat and refusing to push her buttons any further. "It's not that I don't want you here. You know I do. But tomorrow's Thanksgiving...you should get some sleep."

"I did doze off out there for a little while, if that makes you feel any better." She scooted nearer to him again, her fingertips stroking tenderly over his forehead and into his hair.

"What, for thirty seconds?" he teased quietly.

She grinned sheepishly. "No, it was like ten whole minutes. That's way better."

"It doesn't count. Sleeping in the ER is the least restful rest to ever exist."

"Well I wasn't sleeping in the ER," she shot back triumphantly. "A really nice nurse took me back to a deserted waiting room just down the hall from here. She gave me a blanket and everything. She was _also_ the one who got me in here to see you."

He shifted slightly, alleviating a sharp prickle that ran from the tip of his encased toe to the top of his leg. "Let me guess…you outsmarted her with some legal jargon that went way over her head?"

"Decent prediction, but no. Someone on staff just happened to overlook a very important detail in your medical records. This nurse—an absolute godsend, by the way—was the one to notice that detail and bring it to my attention."

She was talking ridiculously fast now, and his cognitive skills were far too foggy to keep up under the circumstances. "You're losing me here, Spence. What are you saying about records?"

Her smile could have melted polar glaciers. "Why didn't you tell me I was your emergency contact? That would have been a good thing to know about five hours ago."

"Oh, that." He pressed into her touch, letting her fingers cool the heat of his brow. "I kinda forgot…you know when I changed it, don't you?"

Her hair bounced playfully as she shook her head. "When?"

"That day I fell off the scaffolding in your yard." A frown unfolded on her face, so he rushed on with the hope of mollifying her dismay. "They kept telling me that my dad was on his way, and that he'd be free to notify other loved ones, but I wouldn't hear it. All I wanted was you and I couldn't wait on him…so they finally gave in, telling me to sign a few forms with your name on it and then they'd call you."

"I never knew that," she whispered in awe, tears gathering without release.

His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, love flaring from deep within his chest. "I'm going to track down your godsend of a nurse and send her the best present this gift shop has to offer. She did me a huge favor tonight. You have no idea how much I worry about you worrying."

"You shouldn't have been wasting that kind of energy on me, Tobes. You're the one in a cast, aren't you?" A small laugh fizzed out of her, but he could see that it wasn't a happy one. "And as glad as I am that you listed me in case of emergency, I would _much_ prefer for you to just avoid the hospital from here on out."

"No arguments there. But that decision was a no brainer—you're the only one who can ever make me feel any better, Spencer."

The well broke then, and her face was against his collar as her body quivered with a muffled cry. He wrapped both arms around her frail figure, holding her tightly against his torso. "Shhh, baby, it's okay. I'm okay."

Her head nodded from beneath his chin, but another racking tremor whipped through her.

"You know what else?" She was in no condition to respond, so he went on without waiting for a vocalized reply. "I sort of had another reason, an ulterior motive, for adding your name to my file. It's no secret that you'd raise absolute hell if the doctors didn't act in my best interest and that's the kind of person I want in my corner."

His ploy worked. A congested bout of laughter took the place of her sniffles. The sound that came back to him was part-laugh, part-sob, and one hundred percent beautiful.

"That's better," he muttered in a singsong, kissing the top of her head. "_Much_ better. And I'm only partially joking about the hell raising thing."

Her bloodshot eyes met with his warily, almost like she'd done something to embarrass herself. "It's good to hear that my bulldozing personality has its benefits."

Toby stared at her doubtfully, treading guardedly on what she'd said. "That's not really up for debate, is it?"

A dubious shrug was her lone reply.

"Spence…You fight hard for what you believe in, harder than anyone else I know. Not just for what you believe in, but _who_. How could that ever be a bad thing?"

"It's just…" she shoved a handful of hair away from her face, blowing out a breath and examining the ceiling, "I don't know…it isn't a big deal."

His fingers formed a gentle cage at the base of her neck, his eyes pleading with her to listen. "It _is_ a big deal. I could have never gone up against –A on that stuff surrounding my mom's death without you. I mean…playing hardball with Radley's corporate attorneys, tracking down Dr. Palmer…I've never felt so supported in my whole life."

She tried to lift her shoulders dismissively, but he wouldn't allow it.

"Look, just last week, Spencer…you're amazing, going to bat for Hanna's relationship with Caleb like you did."

"They're my friends. It's what anyone would do." Confusion was etched between her brows as her head turned back and forth.

"Then why didn't we have dinner with Aria and Emily too?"

She opened her mouth to dispute it, but he cut her off. "I don't mean that as a diss against them…maybe I shouldn't have said it, but that isn't the point. You are **not** a bulldozer. A bulldozer is destructive by nature, and that's not you. You don't tear things down. You build them back up."

An uncertain stillness filled the void, only a hum from the air duct interspersing itself into the dim hush. Her eyes were still glistening when she finally looked at him again. "How can you say any of that after tonight? How…how can you be so patient with me? We missed your graduation. We missed it because I was late and you haven't even tried to ask me why…"

"Whatever it was, it had to be important."

She seemed scandalized by that answer. "You have no idea what kept me, and you're letting me off the hook that easily?"

"Well it _was_ important, wasn't it?" he responded with quiet certainty.

Her expression was blank for a long moment before she pried a nod out of herself. "Yeah, it was."

"I knew it would be." Toby sprawled backward against the mattress, giving her a searching look as his index finger sketched a line across her knee. "I won't force you to talk about it, Spence. That never gets me anywhere and I've come to accept that the answers are less than simple for you...but if there is anything you _can_ tell me...anything that would put my mind at ease..."

"Toby," she exhaled in a whirlwind as she grabbed his hand and gripped it firmly in hers, "I'll tell you anything you want to know, okay? And it won't take very long either, because I can promise you that you're much more in the loop this time than you ever were before."

He smiled softly and gave her hand a corresponding squeeze. "Then we're already off to a really great start."

Spencer angled her body sideways and carefully curled herself around him. Her hand was still attached to his, her amber gaze scanning his face intently before she went on with a muted inflection. "Are you sure you're up to this tonight? You have to be exhausted, sweetheart."

"I'm sure," he murmured before arching across the pillow for a measured kiss that sped through his system like a swift shot of adrenaline. "If I begin to drift off, all you need to do is plant one of those on me and I'll be wide awake in a second."

A beguiling grin stretched from one ear to the other. "I'll keep that in mind. You're actually looking a little sleepy right now."

He kissed her once more, this one spurred solely by that mischievous rasping note in her voice that always drove him to madness. His chest was heaving when he broke away several beats later with a sputtering breath. "Yep, _wide awake_. I think your exorbitant levels of caffeine consumption have somehow made you contagious to the rest of us."

She muffled her laughter into his the sleeve of his hospital gown, her hair spilling across his arm in graceful waves. "I hardly think that's scientifically possible."

"If anyone was born to defy the scientific laws of caffeine, it is most definitely you, Spence."

"I'm deciding to take that as a compliment," she joked back, but it wasn't long before her amusement dwindled into something much more solemn. Her hand—the one that wasn't in his possession—wove into the edge of his hairline as she inhaled with gloomy resignation. "You know that when I do these terrible things...things as terrible as accidentally blowing off your graduation...you have to believe me when I say that it's all with you in mind, okay? I do it for you, for us. Even when it seems like it's causing more harm than good, I swear that there's nothing I want more than to make all of this better. I _need _it to get better."

His heart shriveled at the deep melancholy packed into her every word. "I understand that more than anyone, baby. I've been there, remember?

She nodded, her fingers stilling at the nape of his neck. "Right. Good point."

But an immense fretfulness still darkened her complexion, doing nothing to calm his own unease. Toby nudged forward, his forehead skimming hers as lightly as a butterfly's landing. "Where were you tonight, Spencer? Were you okay?"

"Radley," came her rattled whisper, "I was at Radley with Hanna and Caleb and Aria...and... Mona."

He couldn't respond at first. His tongue wouldn't move and his heart was barreling right out of his chest.

Her face went white at his silence. She pushed away from the pillowcase, sitting upright and steeling her posture against what she assumed to be unspoken criticism. "It was risky, I know that Toby, but Alison had basically declared a cold war and if anyone has what it takes to challenge that degree of evil genius, it's Mona. And she _hates_ Ali, hates her enough to get past the fact that she also hates the four of us. Trust me, I was less than thrilled by the prospect of playing nice but—"

"Hey, calm down, okay?" his brain had finally caught up to her and he didn't like the dangerous rise of her pitch. "Slow it down for a second. Just...come here."

She blinked down at him, apparently a little lost in the heat of her outburst, then abruptly relented to the pull of his arm at her waist. Once she was appropriately snuggled back into him, her taut expression lessened fractionally. "Sorry...I think I'd been mentally beating myself up for so long out there that I kind of just expected for you to do the same."

His head shook forlornly. "You should know better than to assume that by now."

"You're right," she muttered dejectedly, "but it's hard to overcome the sixteen years of conditioning that came before you."

"I don't care what it takes, I **_will _**overcome it." He kissed the bridge of her nose to seal his vow, then inched backward ever so slightly. "Alright, so Radley...and Mona...please tell me that went better than it sounds, because I'm imagining horrific things here."

He listened keenly as her voice warbled precariously through the last few days—Ali's lie detector test, the failure of Mona's army, further revelations about Bethany Young and the DiLaurentis family, and lastly, the perilous details from Melissa's video confession. And he was there for it all, swiping gently at the tears that fell as she finished relaying the last part about her sister.

"I know it sounds crazy, but now that she's gone…and having the truth from her after all this time…God, I sound insane…"

Toby winced at her choice of words, letting the pads of his thumbs wander over her cheeks again. "It's alright, Spencer. If you want to say that you miss her, or that you wish you had another chance…whatever it is…"

She tilted herself more fully into his touch. "I just spent so many years wanting to hate her, wanting to pry the real story out of her…but it was all for me. She meant it, all those times she tried to tell me that she was on my side…I just couldn't wrap my head around it."

"She knows," he soothed, his persistent gaze connecting with deep pools of watery brown, "honestly, she's known all along. The wedge between the two of you, she always knew what was causing it. Even if she isn't here to listen firsthand, she knew this would change everything for you. That's why she did what she did."

He watched as his words seemed to take root in her brain, a cognizant light entering her countenance for the first time in too long. The effect of it all—the turbulent emotions of the night combined with a rather tedious delivery of information—had taken its tiresome toll on her. With a brief nod and a lazy smile, she tunneled her forehead into his shoulder. "I hope she's okay, wherever it is that she's escaped to…"

"I hope so too," he returned, his lips vaulting along the crown of her head. "And I also hope that you'll start giving me a heads-up when your event calendar is double booked with an espionage mission."

"Oh, Toby, I _hate _that we missed y—"

"No, Spence," he corrected hastily, his fingers running over her back, "it was just a silly ceremony. I don't care about that. What I care about is _you_, and when I can't track you down and your phone goes to voice mail…let's just say that my concerns ran a whole lot deeper than simply missing my graduation."

Her lips flecked across his neck. "Well they have them every month, you know…and I may have already left a message at the office in Harrisburg to get you on the program for the next one."

"Uh, what?" he asked, his voice bemused.

"I had a lot of down time out there, okay! According the Academy's website, they host a graduation once a month and you can still work in the meantime—"

She stopped as the rumble of his mirth overtook the room, not even bothering to defend herself. When he could at last regain control over his laughter, Toby tipped her chin back and let his mouth settle into hers for a rapid-fire kiss.

"See? A real hell raiser. You're one-of-a-kind, Spencer Hastings."

Her smirk was infectious. "Kiss me again and I'll show you one-of-a-kind, Cavanaugh."

As if he had a chance of resisting that offer.

Their tongues collided this time and Spencer's gravelly moan of pleasure had him paralyzed—literally. He went to flip her over, wishing to feel her beneath him more than anything, when he had the stark realization that his leg was still strung uselessly into the air.

His groan was fueled in frustration, and it wasn't the sexual kind. "I can't do a damn thing with this cast on, can I?"

"Who says you have to do all the work, Tobes?"

Her eyes were narrow, lips swollen, as eager fingers plummeted in a straight line down the front of his gown. The pulse of his attraction went into hyper speed as he let out a shuddering sigh. His anticipation was nearly unendurable as he tugged her in for another kiss.

But the door squealed open and a sneering nurse fidgeted at the entrance. "Sorry to…interrupt. I have a notation here that says you need to be roused every so often. It's protocol for ruling out the possibility of a concussion." Her regard flitted disapprovingly between them. "Looks like that won't be necessary for right now."

Spencer's entire face was flaming red. She coughed dryly, her eyes at the window—"yep, he's awake."

"And feeling great," he finished meekly, trying to subdue a nervous chuckle. "But thanks for stopping in."

"Just doing my job," she replied snappishly, "and it is also my job to suggest that you spend some of this night resting, young man."

Then she was gone, head held high.

"Oh my Goddd," Spencer planted her face in his chest, her words seeping into him, "tell me that did not happen."

He folded his arms around her and let out a noise of empathy. "Talk about a mood killer."

She lifted her gaze to shoot him a serious look. "She's right though, Toby. You should be sleeping."

"Fine," he huffed in mock exasperation, "just don't think I'll be forgetting that 'who says you have to do all the work' comment any time soon—I'm holding onto that one, gorgeous."

Her lips descended on his with new found delicacy. "You won't have to ask me twice."

Toby couldn't contain his haphazard grin. He was pretty sure it was still perfectly in tact when the dregs of medicated slumber pulled him under just a few minutes later.

His hand flexed around Spencer's, keeping her close even as his conscious ebbed away.


End file.
